Crank it Up!

When we moved from a single family house to a two family, we were blessed with very quiet, rarely home downstairs neighbors.  Ah, I love my quiet!

Last July, we were blessed with new neighbors:  a lovely woman and her two daughters, both in elementary school.  We hit it off right away.  We have been able to bless each other and Isabella, my nine-year-old granddaughter has found new friends.

That being said, with a family, instead of two single people, living downstairs, I realize much more that this house wasn't built with sound absorbing materials! 

I hear myself in the voice of the mother trying to get her girls to school on time.  It is my voice that I hear when reprimanding is done a bit too harshly.  It is my family I hear laughing. 

Sometimes looking in a mirror is difficult; sometimes it is sweet.  I am thankful for my new neighbors.

(almost) Unbearable

When we decide to have children, we think of precious newborns, inquisitive toddlers, cuteness and innocence.  What we don't think of is an emerging human being with opinions and weaknesses, rebellion and pain.

Seeing one of my children or my granddaughter in pain can do me in.  There are times I think it is unbearable.  Even prayer and reading the Word of God can have little effect...or so I think...

Last week, there was a night I thought I was going to break, literally.  A number of years ago, I was  hospitalized (my choice) for depression and anxiety but have grown enough in knowledge and faith to be able to stand up to the demons that plague me.

My precious granddaughter has been going through a rough time and I became so upset that I felt like nothing could bring me strength.  People are praying about the situation and there is comfort in that but I was about to crack.

For several months, I have been writing out  my prayers so I went to my prayer spot and cried out my pain and the injustice of what is happening to my girl.  I reminded God of His promises to those who love Him and trust Him.  I laid it all on His broad, broad shoulders.

And I slept well for the first time in a very long time.

Needed

Today, my boy hugged me. “…overwhelmed, “ he said, “So overwhelmed.” Actually, my boy needed his mom to hug him. And I did promising that there were more where they had come from.

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about how my son is a stranger to me; about his hidden life. He is 23 years old and there is so much I do not know about him. When did that happen? When did he become a stranger?

So, too, is my daughter. I probably know a little more about her but that is because she is 32 and a mother. We relate because we are both mothers. However, we are so different.

We think of having “babies.” We do not think about having defiant teenagers. We do not think of having 23 and 32 year old children. Are they any less our children as they grow older? At 56, I am still my mother’s child. The Girl and The Boy will always be my children.

There are probably a lot of things I don’t want to know about my children. I feel anxiety just contemplating their secrets. There are many things I hope my mom doesn’t know about the younger me. I wish it wasn’t so but it is.

Where am I going with this? I don’t know. Just feeling the need to try to work out what I am feeling. My children still need me. I need their help. Maybe there will be a symbiosis some day. ~heavy sigh~ Some day.

How Did I Get Here From There?

When I was in high school, I thought I would graduate and become a flight attendant and travel the world. A gas crisis caused the airlines to layoff personnel, not hire more.

Plan B, go to college and study to be an adolescent psychologist. After graduation, I was supposed to go to graduate school. Uh, marriage and a baby followed, but not school.

With a husband who had left to seek "greener pastures," I tried graduate school whilst taking care of my infant daughter but it was too much. Off to work I went.

Seven years later, I met Himself. He told me I would never have to work more than part-time. ~heavy sigh~ That never happened and then The Boy was born.

The Boy is now twenty-two years old and I am a disabled "homemaker" who has helped take care a our granddaughter since the day she was born.

Things didn't turn out as I had planned. However, I am so happy to be able to be here for my precious girl.

How did I get here? I've stopped wondering and am trying to just live with what God has blessed me with. g