Tag: relationships

Person First

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Sometimes my brain plays tricks on me

And the person in my head

Doesn’t match the reflection I see

My life has great worth, though not all believe

Yet from the time I was born

My mom reassured me

I shout out “Hello!” from inside my brain

Even though you can’t hear it

I’m shouting it, just the same

Who do you see when you look my way?

Will you take time to know me

Or will you just look away?

Do you ever think about what others see?

When they look your way

Are you fretful or free?

No matter our differences, I hope you’ll agree

We are all persons first

Always remember…Oh, please!

Parent/Child Circle

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Being both daughter and mom of a daughter creates a constant cycle of emotions and challenges.  As a daughter, I did not truly appreciate the actions of my mom until becoming a mom myself.  As a mom, I continually struggle with whether or not my parenting decisions were best for my children.  It’s an unending, mixed up, beautiful circle.

There were times I certainly drove my mom crazy and surely caused her many sleepless nights.  Thankfully she did not give up on me during my young adult years despite some poor choices on my part.  Somehow we both survived.  Although my children may not have supplied the same grief,  I have experienced the worry and sleepless nights.  Part of the job, I suppose.

In a recent conversation, my mom expressed some regret over some of her parenting choices-wishing she had talked more openly about certain subjects.  You know the ones-uncomfortable ones we tend to avoid.  Almost as if she thought my mistakes were her fault.  Naturally, I reassured her that she was a great mom and that I made my own choices.

Truthfully, there comes a time when each of us is responsible for our own actions.  My young adult choices were mine-good or bad, and I had to deal with their consequences. The older I become the more I understand how even those mistakes helped form this person I see in the mirror.  Yes, they brought guilt and sorrow, but also allowed me to encounter life-changing forgiveness and grace.  And that affects how I relate to the people in my life.

At first, I didn’t understand why my mom felt the way she did.  How could she possibly think my mistakes were her fault?  Then I began to reflect on my own parenting.  From that perspective, I began to understand.  Our children are part of us.  One of our greatest responsibilities.  And in some ways, part of our reflection.  We want to see the best parts of ourselves in those reflections.

As parents, we love, worry, pray, and provide-but still feel like we’re falling short.  Did we encourage enough?  Or too much?  Was our opinion expressed too strongly?  Or not strongly enough? Did we efficiently equip our children to make good decisions?  On the one hand feeling responsible for our children’s mistakes, on the other acknowledging our parents are not responsible for ours.  Certainly a contradiction of ideas.

Logical or not, this crazy cycle goes on and on.  Is this cause for concern?  Something we need to change?  I would argue no.  This is the parent/child circle.  You can’t be a parent without first being a child.  You can’t be a child without first having a parent.  Sounds simple, but it is beautifully complicated.  As a parent I would say it is worth the worry and sleepless nights.  And maybe if I stop to remember what it was like to be a child, I won’t be quite so hard on myself as a parent.

Going Home

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Growing up, giving directions to my house was always interesting.  It went something like this…”Drive past the Natural Steps sign and Moreland’s Grocery Store, go around a sharp curve, over a hill, then you’ll see a straight stretch of road.  Right at the end of the straight stretch, turn left onto Mahar Road.”  Mahar is my mom’s maiden name, hence the name of the road.

My husband likes to tell people that I grew up in a commune, but that is not the case. The quarter of a mile road,  lined with trees on both sides, dead ends into a wide-open valley.  My grandparent’s house was in the center, surrounded by several homes belonging to my aunts, uncles, and my parents.  Huge oaks, towering pines, and grassy fields provided plenty of room for kids to run and play.

That’s where I spent my childhood-riding bikes, digging in the dirt, playing kickball and basketball with my cousins.  And since my mom had six sisters and two brothers, there were always cousins around.  They say I made them listen to me practice piano and violin…well, maybe a few times.  But most of the time, we were outside.  Distinct memories include singing at the top of my lungs while riding bicycles, trying to fool my uncle with mud pies, and playing “King of the Mountain” on Grandma’s front porch.

Almost thirty-three years have passed since I lived on Mahar Road.  Even while typing I think surely that can’t be correct! Oh, but it is…despite the years gone by and having a family of my own, I still refer to this special place as home.  I’m thankful to have grown up there-carefree, no worries about safety, room to let our imaginations run wild.

Of course, things have changed since I was a child.  My grandparents are no longer living, cousins are all grown and many, just like me, have moved away.  That doesn’t matter.  Simply driving the route that leads to home causes any anxiety to melt away.  My brain slows down, my body relaxes, and while there I truly rest.  Sometimes I even feel like a kid again.

Thinking about my childhood reminds me that home is so much more than a house.  It’s the people, the places, the memories.  And sometimes…you just need to go home.

 

Life’s Roles

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Daughter first

Sister second

Years later wife

Mom times three

Cousin, niece, aunt

Friend and teacher between

 

Each role gives purpose

Brings responsibility

Delivers sorrow 

Causes growth

Provides joy

Creates life

 

 I look ahead

The future unseen

New roles yet to come

Hopeful to embrace each one

Through smiles, laughter, or tears

And continue down this path to becoming me

House to Home

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Our family has lived in our current home for fifteen years.  Kids were nine, seven, and three when we moved in.  Prior to that move we had lived in four different houses in three different cities, and two different states.  I remember feeling so relieved to be settled.

As someone who spent the first seventeen years of my life (until I left for college) in the same house, all of our moves were challenging.  I worried about how the kids would handle each new place.  Would they make friends easily?  Would I?  Of course, we all adjusted in our own way.

This house has truly become home.  It’s where our kids grew up.  So many memories.  For example, my concern that Ryan would fall down the stairs.  He was so little when we moved in, and the kids bedrooms were all upstairs.  As it turned out, the concern should have been for me!  I was the first one to bounce down the stairs on my bottom.

Although there was the time Robert tumbled down the stairs.  Apparently Robert, Rachel, and Ryan were playing the game “follow your siblings directions while wearing a sleeping bag over your head.”  I’m sure you’ve all played that one before!  Some friendly advice; make sure the sibling giving directions knows their right from their left…

Many of the memories involve celebrations-and food.  Saturday morning pancakes, Sunday night Chinese take-out, Dad’s burgers on the grill, my chocolate chip cookies, yellow cake with chocolate frosting. Birthday parties, holiday dinners with extended family, graduation parties-so many things to celebrate.

Well…things are about to change.  We currently have a high school senior and a college senior, and an already moved out and employed teacher.  We know from experience these next few months will fly by.  And though our nest won’t be immediately empty, that is the direction we are rapidly heading.

Gart and I have talked many times about preparing for this next stage in life.  He would even joke and tell the kids we were going to buy a tiny house or move to a loft apartment downtown.  Neither of those is going to happen, but we are preparing to buy another house and sell this one.

Right now my thoughts are mostly in the details-time frame, moving boxes, etc.  But they  unexpectedly drift and I find my eyes welling with tears.  This happened while driving away from the home we eventually decided to buy.  It’s a beautiful home, warm and cozy.  I am excited.  So why was I crying?

Change is like that.  Even when the change is positive, it still comes with growing pains.  Right now my growing pains involve how my role as a parent is changing.  Since the majority of my parenting years took place in this house, leaving it will be emotional.

Sometimes when I’m at home alone, our once busy house feels like an empty shell.  I’m thankful for the flood of memories that fills the empty spaces.  Just as our family established traditions and made memories here, I must trust we will do the same in our new house.  And as old memories travel with us and mix together with the new,  a transformation will take place-one that will turn house to home.

Songs and Faces

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I love the way one single song can bring a flood of memories to my mind.  I experience this phenomenon quite often.  The memory may be an event, a feeling, a person…today it was a specific group of people.

These particular individuals happen to be talented musicians. It was my privilege, playing music with them at many a Sunday service in times past.  Circumstances have changed, taking some of us in different directions, to different places. But there was something special about the time we worked together, rehearsing hours each week preparing for Sunday services.

I’ve been playing piano in church since I was a little girl.  We won’t do the math-trust me, that’s a long time! Having taken some time away to rest and refocus, I recently began playing again.  Though the rest was much needed, the return feels like a visit with an old friend.

That brings us to today.  Currently I participate in a traditional service-piano, organ, choir, orchestra.  However, this particular service was different, a beautiful combination of modern and traditional. One of the modern songs was “Great I Am.”

I was excited to see it on the set list. Hearing it at rehearsal last week was like a breath of fresh air and an encouraging memory all wrapped into one.

”I want to be near, near to your heart.  Loving the world and hating the dark.”

This morning as we sang those words, the memories flooding my mind were faces. How I miss those faces.  Although things are not the same, those experiences stay with me wherever the journey leads.  And I continue to discover just how much moments spent with this amazing group of people made a lasting impact on my life.

Instant Friends

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Have you ever experienced an instantaneous friendship?  You meet someone for the first time, yet it seems as if you’ve always known them?  That’s exactly what happened when I met Shannon.  Both of our husbands had new jobs which brought us to Liberal, KS.  She was the wife of a pastor and me the wife of a high school assistant principal.  We both had young children and were navigating a new place, far away from old friends and family.

If you’ve never been to Liberal, well…there is an actual edge of town. You can see nothing but fields for miles and miles in all directions. The town had a Walmart, a few restaurants, and a small shopping center.  We would drive an hour and a half to Garden City, KS just to eat at Applebees.  Needless to say, it was quite an adjustment for both families.

Our move to Liberal was the second big move we’d made in nine years of marriage.  Memories from previous moves brought images of tear-filled goodbyes with many dear friends.  Some of those goodbyes turned into lifelong friendships, but in that actual moment of leaving it felt like our world was falling apart.  As for me, the tears often continued as I adjusted and searched to figure out my place in a new location.  Looking back now I understand that those lonely times strengthened our marriage and brought our family closer together, but oh were they hard.

Soon after we settled in our new home, I heard an advertisement on the radio for a MOPs (Moms of Preschoolers) group meeting.  I’d never been to one of these before but was excited at the prospect of meeting other moms with small children.  There was also a weekly storytime at the library.  My two oldest would be starting school soon, so that would give Ryan (my youngest) and I a fun outing.

It’s funny looking back now, I can’t remember if I first met Shannon at the library or MOPs.  I definitely noticed her at both events with her young kids.  She had such a welcoming smile, maybe we would become friends!  We introduced ourselves, and it wasn’t long before we had traded phone numbers.  At least now there would be a familiar face at storytime and our MOPs meetings.

Not long after school started, Shannon asked if I’d like to go for a walk after we dropped our older kids off at school.  Our youngest kids were the same age, and still enjoyed short stroller rides.  That first walk remains etched in my memory.  We chatted about our families, what had brought us to Liberal, our future plans.  And then Shannon shared the most amazing thing.  From the time they knew they would be moving, she had been praying that God would send her a friend.  I will never forget her words, “I think you just might be the answer to my prayers.”

From that point on, we were inseparable.  Playdates, family dinners, babysitting for eachother…things all young moms desperately need. I’m not sure how I would have survived that year without her.  It felt like we had known each other our entire lives.  She would even laugh and say she must have named her daughter Kelli after me before she even knew me.  And to make the year even more exciting, she soon discovered they were expecting their third child!  So much to plan and celebrate!

Telling Shannon that we would be moving back to Oklahoma for the following school year was not easy.  I dreaded making that phone call.  We were in Oklahoma for the interview and she was in Kansas, having just given birth to their sweet baby.  Terrible timing, but I knew it couldn’t wait.  Always gracious, she understood.  Moving would eventually be part of their future as well.  There were tears and promises to keep in touch.  Despite having experienced this kind of goodbye with friends before-it was not any easier.

Although Shannon and I had become close friends in such a short time, I had no idea the lasting impact she would have on my life. After our move, there were regular phone calls in those first months and even a visit despite the distance between us.  But our communications quickly took a different tone as Shannon was diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer.

How could this be possible?  A young mom of three, healthy, no family history…the wife of a pastor.  She fought so hard.  Surgery, treatments, more surgery…and so many prayers.  I witnessed the outpouring of support from their family and friends past and present.  There were also a few misguided individuals who thought if her faith was just strong enough, she would be healed.  Most certainly they did not truly know Shannon.

If ever there was a time in life where I questioned my own faith, this was it.

I had the privilege of spending a week with Shannon and her family shortly before she died.  Oh, my sweet friend-fighting with courage and grace I had never witnessed before. Her cancer had spread once again causing tremendous pain and weakness.  But she was determined we would go shopping, and we did.  She had also planned an outing for us at a lovely tea room, and we went.  I watched as she pushed through, insisting on serving dinner and giving attention to her family-she loved them so much.

Shannon’s kindness as a friend, patience as a mom, and her unwavering faith in the face of terrible tragedy continues to impact my life. We may have only lived in the same town for one year, fifteen years ago, but I miss her.  The grief that she is not here with her family remains.  I keep a picture of the two of us on a shelf in my closet.  When I look at this sweet photo, I think about the power and importance of friends.  And remembering our instantaneous friendship, I am grateful.

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Thankful

On By Piano girl3 Comments

In an earlier blog post, The Struggle for Control, I shared the story of when my husband, Gart, and I were hit by a drunk driver.  At the time of the accident,  I was eight months pregnant with our first child, Robert. This story is multi-faceted, and I was not quite ready to share the following details in my earlier post.  Honestly, I’m never quite sure how they will be received.

The week after our accident I was recovering at home.  Being eight months pregnant with broken ribs was no fun.  My mom was staying with us to help with cooking and housework, etc so Gart could go back to work.  Although thankful we were all okay, there were many moments of worry and anger.  Worry over the baby, anger at the driver who chose to drive drunk, anger at the establishment where he and his friends had been drinking the night before… negative emotions all around.

One afternoon my mom began to share that something strange had happened to her the night before the accident.  She had not wanted to tell me before for fear of upsetting me further.  Doctors orders were for rest and calm.  Not an easy task when you’re feeling worried and angry!  Looking back, her timing was perfect and helped me work through difficult feelings.

Our first baby shower was scheduled to take place the day our accident occurred. My mom and Aunt Linda were driving up from Arkansas, so it was not unusual that we spoke on the phone the night before.  Last minute details, what time they were leaving, what time we would arrive at the shower-a normal phone call.  Except for the added air of excitement as we said, “Love you!  See you tomorrow!”

For my mom, however, what happened next was the furthest thing from normal.

Through her tears, mom explained that right after she hung up the phone that evening before the accident, she heard a voice.  Clear and precise words, ‘That is the last time you will talk to Kelley.” Obviously, she was shaken and tried to put the thought out of her mind.  Where did that come from? Why would she think such a thing?  But the voice would not go away, so she began to pray.

Her prayers continued through the night and during the drive to Oklahoma the following day.  Pulling in the driveway at my in-law’s house, she immediately noticed our car was not there-we should have already arrived.  My brother-n-law came out to greet them and of course, she knew instantly something was wrong.  It is difficult to imagine the fear my mom felt at that moment…

A picture was taken of our car after the accident.  The driver’s side smashed, the trunk pushed in, the windshield broken…but my side of the car looked like it had never been touched-not even a scratch.  I remember someone commenting, “It looks like an angel was guarding your door.”

Psalm 91:11 says, “For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways…”

I’m not sure how to adequately explain these events, yet I choose to believe.  I believe my mom’s prayers were answered.  I believe an angel was sent to protect.  Did I actually see one? No.  I don’t understand the how or why.  Sometimes my thoughts wander, thinking about how differently things could have turned out.  Truth is, none of us are guaranteed another breath, so I don’t dwell in that space for long.

“Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow.  What is your life?  You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.”  James 4:14

Does this story impact the way I live my life each day?  Not like it should, I’m afraid.  As for today, I am thankful for my mom, who continues to be strong in her faith and persistent in her prayers.  I am thankful for her wisdom in sharing her part of the story with me at just the right moment.  And at this moment, maybe thankful is the best thing for me to be.

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Robbing the Cradle

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I’m sure you have heard the phrase “robbing the cradle.”  Typically it refers to someone marrying a much younger person.  People have teased me with that old saying upon discovering that I am two years older than my husband.  Of course, he never lets me forget that fact, even though two years hardly qualifies in this case.

On a recent trip to the grocery store, my daughter and I met an older couple.  As the wife turned around from the meat counter, she stumbled but caught herself.  She came to a stop right in front of us.  I asked if she was ok and said something like, “Oh, be careful!”  Very helpful I’m sure, but she smiled and struck up a conversation.

We soon learned that this fashionably dressed, white-haired, make-up wearing woman was ninety-three years old!  She shared her age proudly and thanked us as we commented on how amazing she looked.  Obviously, this woman had some spunk.

As we continued to chat, her husband (I assumed) walked toward us.  When something was mentioned about him watching out for her she laughed and said, “Oh yes he does.  Well, I did rob the cradle.”  Now mind you he was not a spring chicken and walked with a cane, but he had a precious smile.  We chuckled as she shared that she was twelve years older than her husband.  I quickly did the math in my head…so, that makes him eighty-one.

Just when I thought the story was finished, she shared more details.  “I was married to my first husband for seventy years.  And (pointing to her husband) we’ve only been married for three years.”  It took a few minutes for my brain to wrap around what this precious lady was saying.  Seventy years of marriage!  What a story!  I would imagine her current husband also had a story to tell, but he just smiled happily as she told hers.

Later I found myself wishing I could have spent more time with this sweet couple.  Many questions came to my mind.  How old was she when she first married?  What had happened to her husband?  Did she have any children?  How did she meet her current husband?  Answers I guess I will never have.  Unless we happen to run into each other at the grocery store again…you can bet I will be keeping my eyes open.

 

 

 

Connections

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After just finishing the first week of school, I found it interesting that today’s church sermon focused on connecting with others. Being intentional in greeting people, taking time to make connections…things we too often gloss over.  We all have our comfort zone, the same people we talk to, the same path we walk most days.  The pastor this morning reminded us that we never know what the person standing next to us might be going through. Most of us have been in that place of “needing to be greeted.”

While listening to the sermon, I began to reflect on this past “first week” of school.  In my upper elementary music classes, we listened to James Taylor’s “Today, Today, Today” for our beginning warm-up.  Opening lyrics say, “Today, today, today…I’m finally on my way.”  Students were asked to finish that thought, use their imagination and tell me where they were headed.

Their answers were funny, thoughtful, and interesting-ranging from-to the restroom, to lunch, home, grandma’s house, college, heaven.  And then the one that left the room silent,  “On my way to visit my dad in prison.”   As if that wasn’t surprising enough, another sweet student said almost exactly the same thing.  Serious connections.  Right in the middle of music class, two students discover they share a difficult life situation.  And then I overheard these two precious kiddos connect further as one shared they were actually in foster care right now.

I knew at that moment what we were doing was important, but didn’t really give it much thought after the fact.  The week was long, there were so many things to get done.  I was so tired.  Today’s church sermon reminded me of the importance of those connections.  Teacher to student, student to student-we all need each other.  And if I expect my students to listen and learn from me, I must be willing to listen and learn from them.

Here’s to a week of playing some super fun rhythm and singing games in Mrs. Morris’s music class!  And in the midst of our making music, may we also make lasting connections which will help us through the tough days this life inevitably brings.