Monday Musings!

When we moved three years ago, we didn't notice our clothes dryer was ridiculously loud. It was just background noise for our strangely smooth adjustment to a new house down the road from our old one.

When a sweet teenage friend came to stay with us for a while, she proclaimed, "Your dryer is REALLY loud!"

Hmm.  Maybe. I guess I was already used to it. It didn't bother me that much.

Soon it became the norm for people to comment on the dryer. During our kitchen remodel, each of the four men working in the house mentioned it on separate occasions. I mean, who notices DRYERS??? The final straw came this fall when an HVAC guy was doing a maintenance check in the basement when I turned on the dryer. He shot up the stairs yelling, "What was THAT? I thought the house was going to blow!!!"

We had to face the fact that maybe, just maybe, our dryer was not quite okay. We googled the brand and "noise," and found the problem was not unique, and there were concrete steps to take to deal with it. One afternoon, one cut finger, and several youtube videos later, Tim fixed the dryer and it now purrs like a kitten. It just took us THREE YEARS to deal with it.

This has me thinking of how easily the loud dryer became normal to us, even though we had to pull the door shut in order to hear the tv or talk on the phone, and I had a ringing in my ears on days when I did multiple loads.

I've written a lot about getting used to things, and how it is often necessary. I've had to get used to  living without Jack's physical presence, even though 5 years later I still find it bizarre, shocking, and excruciating. Time in itself does not heal all, but it does help us adjust, day in and day out, to reality. Heck, I must admit I am still getting used to the idea that I'm 47 with a baby, even though that baby turns 9 months old this week. I guess at some point it will start to seem normal.

But as the calendar page now has not only a new month but a new year on top of it, I wonder if there are other things that we are living with, that we have grown accustomed to, that really could be  improved if we would just take the needed steps.

(In my life these tendencies range from putting all of my goals on the back burner because of the baby, speaking and being spoken to by family members in ways that are curt and transactional not relational, and my leaning toward sloth rather than health and connection because eating candy and watching TV by myself takes less energy and planning than figuring out how to exist any other way)

But maybe that which seems permanent and unchangeable needn't be that daunting, and perhaps isn't even really that unique. There was a comfort that a bunch of other people out in google-land had the very same dryer issue Tim and I did and chose not to keep living with it.

Perhaps we've talked ourselves into believing that certain patterns/habits/situations might be a nuisance, but they're not really a big deal. I know that's what I do; and as a result, I put off positive changes in favor of inertia.

I wonder, are you living with something you've convinced yourself you cannot change, or that it's not a big deal?

Monday Catch-up and new article up on FOR HER

We had a great weekend of beautiful weather, apple picking, photography, and Andrew adjusting to his crib. Tim and I even had a night out with friends at a comedy club where one of my dear friends performed. Margaret commented on how easy it was to get the baby to go to sleep, so I think our babysitting game is looking up! Here she is taking pictures at an old mill for photography class.

Today, Andrew woke up with another cold that I'm afraid could turn croupy, so please send prayers our way that he won't lose the ground he's gained in his crib and that he feels better soon! Exactly one month ago today is when he got sick last time, and we are still a bit of a mess.

BIG NEWS: I have a new article up today on For Her, a gorgeous lifestyle magazine. I wrote about a weird thing I did that helped our marriage. I hope you'll read it, and also check out the other great articles on For Her.

Happy Monday!

The Balm

Despite the general sense of calm I've had about this late-in-life pregnancy, I do still wonder about my ability to do it all over again. Not the pregnancy itself, but the parenting and the sacrifice, and of course, 2nd grade math. I don't want to phone it in with this little one, even though after more than 10 years of having kids in school full-time and plenty of very quiet time by myself at work and at home, it will be an adjustment. Am I ready for Hot Wheels and Thomas the Train?

Will I be able to adapt to having a little sidekick again?

And it's such a weird time to be having a baby, when I FINALLY feel I have found my true calling through writing and speaking engagements. Sharing stories and life with others, examining the ideas of loss, resilience, and radical trust are a sweet spot for me, and I've been hoping to do much more of this as Margaret grows more independent. I love speaking to churches, universities, and at conferences.  I feel there may well be another book or two in me. So, after years of NOT knowing what I wanted to do when I grew up, I now KNOW, and it feels right, but I wonder how it will play out with a tiny person to care for.

I haven't mentioned this inner conflict to many people, because I don't want to seem to be taking our baby miracle for granted. But I'm human, and I wonder. It seemed like it was time for me to blossom beyond the four walls of our house by connecting with others and their stories, but being pregnant  seems to steer me right back toward the protective walls of home.

My husband Tim, who is a man of few words, said the kindest thing to me last week. I know I have used this space in the past to share some of his foibles with you-- not full-on husband bashing I
hope--but  anecdotes here and there to illustrate our different takes on...just about everything. And as I told him years and years ago, if he wants to write about me and my annoying habits, he should feel free to start his own darn blog.

Anyway, out of the blue in the kitchen last week he said, "I think what you do is more important than what I do, because you are helping people every day. I want to find a way to help you after the baby comes so that you don't have to quit doing it."

I don't know what he meant, specifically, but I tear up thinking about it.

His job is the one that brings in the vast majority of our income, and it is something that he does well. For him to notice, really notice, that what I do somehow makes a difference made me feel seen and acknowledged. We don't talk much, but in 20+ years he has witnessed that my default mode is to put my desires on the back burner for the family, to push up my sleeves and let the years roll by without considering if something else might also beckon. Now that I've heard such a beckoning louder and more clearly than ever before, I do not want to ignore it, and his words emboldened me to consider that following the call might still be possible, even if the idea overwhelms me. Truly, those words were a balm.

This post is not about making money, or staying home versus working outside of it. It feels different than that. Instead, I think it's about yesterday's patterns not having to dictate tomorrow's. It's about rethinking roles and the way things have always been. Jack's death has taught us that almost everything is subject to change, but even with that unsought-after knowledge, I am still sometimes reluctant to see beyond how I am living right here, right now, and be open-hearted to other possibilities.

Itching to Talk to You

So much and yet so little to write on a Monday.

I could update you on my shoulders...(torn labrum is feeling MUCH better, thank you, and my husband and I are back to sharing the same bed!)

Or on how it feels to have the book "out there" for real people to read (not weird at all)

Or how I coped with our town's high school homecoming festivities without Jack (left town, had a great time, tried not to look at FB. Peeked anyway, gah!)

Or what it's like to have a kid whose math homework is now way too hard for me to help with (humbling)

Or that Tim and I almost jetted off to Paris for his work, but instead stayed home and got hooked on the True Detective DVD's he got me for my birthday (saved money, scary, good)

Or whether you think I should start signing every text with a simple new embellishment. (To Tim: "Please buy dog food. XOXO, NYT Best Selling Author" To my sister: "Period through jeans again. XOXO, NYT Best Selling Author" Is that too much? It's not, right?)

Oh I just don't know. Monday is making me feel all over the place, so let's just go with this morning's events-- a visit to the dermatologist followed by a wait at the pharmacy that was, I'm certain, long enough for me to pick up every single germ that lurked in the back of Rite Aid. And far too long for my bladder to hold its 3 cups of tea, but heck if I was going to use a bathroom in a PHARMACY, so I held it during a drive home laced with an, "I think I can, I think I can!" pep talk for myself.

But then, because of leaving the garage door open for our garage-mahal builders, the door to the house was locked but I had no key. I was locked out with a full bladder and a yard not wooded enough to provide an acceptable level of privacy, should I have to go outdoors.

A plan emerged.

Tim was getting a physical back in town, where I'd just come from; perhaps I could head him off at the pass and get a key from him before he headed to work. And instead of just waiting for me in the doctor's office parking garage, he suggested Starbucks. So we had a 10:30 a.m. date, which is pretty spiffy for a Monday morning.

Yes, my part of the date consisted saying, "Hey!" and running to the bathroom, but moments later it  seemed pretty date-like as he slid a house key across table with a smile. Had this been Mad Men, not my suburban life, and had I not just come from a dermatologist who diagnosed me with an itchy, creepy skin virus  over my entire body, well, this story could have ended differently.

Instead, Tim headed to work and I to the gas station.

But you should have seen how hot he looked as we parted ways and he whispered,  "Try Shell. We might have gas points there."

After a few more errands and an ill-fated search for red lentils at the store, I'm back home, Shadow at my feet, trying to ease my way into this week.

I hope your week is filled with love, laughter, and non-rashy days.

Monday Musings: Changes

Jack was one of the brightest kids I've ever met, and although I know it is not always the case, his stellar test scores and grades attested for that.

He was a whiz. He was a high achiever.

But he was also a cutup in class-- as much as you can be in the small, laced-up, private school environment he loved.

We didn't really witness this, because of his quiet side at home, but we'd hear from other families that entertaining "Jack Stories" were part of their dinnertime routines.

Last summer Jack and I talked about middle school, and he shared that he wanted to be seen as more than just a funny guy. His wit and charm had been there from birth, but some of his clowning around had started as a way for this extreme introvert to fit in or find an identity. He didn't think he needed that anymore. While at home, on the ball fields, and at scouts we saw a more serious Jack, at the school he loved he had been a foil, sometimes a follower, and often a clown.

Entering middle school, Jack was interested in letting his more thoughtful, serious side show. He and I talked about how hard it is to change your image, particularly when you are in the same old setting, and when people like who you are. I proposed switching Jack to a large public school. Jack lobbied hard to stay where he was, and knowing that even in his small school, middle school would be different enough and would present more growth opportunities for him, we agreed.

So on that fateful Thursday, the second day of school, we drove home and I heard how excited Jack was about the coming year. How great he thought his Math, Bible, and English classes would be. How he loved his classmates.

Then he started telling me about a funny skit he and his friend made up that day. In the left turn lane, waiting to pull into our neighborhood, I looked at him in the rear view mirror. My eyes narrowed and I said sharply, "Jack!" That one word contained a bit of exasperation, maybe some venom, and certainly a big dose of expectation. Oh to be firstborn and have to carry the weight of it all!

That one word said: "Jack, I thought you were going to rein it in this year! What about our talk? Will others ever have the chance to truly see the Jack WE KNOW AND LOVE?"

He responded immediately with his rapid-fire speech: "No Mom No! I know what you're thinking! It wasn't like that at all. It was free time. It was great. Seriously, this is going to be the BEST YEAR EVER!"

We pulled into the neighborhood, continued our conversation about the future, and I truly felt we had made the best decision for Jack. He felt so positive about his friends, his teachers, his identity. I knew it would be his chance to grow and lead and flourish!

Well, you know how this story ends, but it got me thinking today about expectations and changes.

It takes a brave, strong person to change, especially if others aren't ready for it or don't understand it.

I've already shared that Tim and I have had to adjust our expectations of one another since Jack's death. I've turned more inward, and my inward husband has become increasingly social and physically fit. My couch potato-ness has reach new heights (depths?) while he is running, rowing and playing team sports to keep sane. We have to accept this in each other.

Sometimes we are given a change of perspective, and that changes US. This isn't always comfortable to those around us.

A mom who decides to stop drinking might feel marginalized at neighborhood events. Adopting a healthier diet or lifestyle could come off as rigid or weird. You may have changed your family priorities in light of some new perspective gained, but it has left your social circle wondering "Why?"

I have heard from many people who have changed as a result of Jack's accident.

They are closer to God. They are mad at God. Some have found more motiviation in their work. Some think their jobs are meaningless. They are praying more. Hugging more. Worrying less. Spending more time with their families. Ending unheathy friendships and habits. Trying to find more meaning in this life.

When you see things in a new way, turning back to the old way is an option, but it squanders whatever wisdom has been gained. And this wisdom is usually gained at a high cost.

For example, I was an ardent meeting-goer in my previous life, but at this point there is no way I'm going to get all up in arms about the minutiae of church business or youth sports, or whatever. I mean, seriously, if it's not about LOVE or LIFE or DEATH or HEAVEN, it seems like bull to me at this point. I want to keep this eternal perspective, even though I wish I'd never been given it in the first place. I don't want to squander it. Does that make sense?

Jack was ready to make some changes, but we never really got to see how that would turn out.

What about you? Do you have some changes you are pondering? I'd love to hear more.