Most Moms Won't Admit...

... That they like their minivan.

I should know. I used to be one.

A little over a year ago, I totaled my minivan. Sounds serious, but it was really a stupid mistake (among a few other things in my life). I had dropped a friend off at her car, and waited until she safely drove away. Then I headed toward home, reaching for my cell phone (for shame!) to call my husband and see what I needed to bring home for our evening. Smack into a light pole in the middle of an empty parking lot. (Cell phones and driving do not mix!.) Both airbags deployed, thus rendering my van a total loss.

So we began the search for a new car. It had to be big enough to hold our brood of 5. But since the children were growing, and car seats and travel needs getting smaller, we decided to forego the minivan and look for a "non-mom" car. And we found one. It has 4 wheel drive. It has less bells and whistles than the van, but when I drive it sans children, I feel like ME and not like MOM. And we can take it out on date night and feel like we really are on date night.

Now we are back to the big car seats and many little needs for travel, much to our very big surprise, as you know. And though we still love to drive the car, and I can still be in it, even with the kids, and feel like ME and not so much MOM, we miss the van. At least, I do.

I miss the functional doors it had. I miss the DVD that I could really use right now while nursing in parking lots with the other kids in the car. I miss the sunroof now that it is finally spring and the snow has melted and there is sun in the sky to enjoy. I miss the cargo hold for all the groceries! (I've been priding myself in stretching the time between grocery store trips to 2 weeks, but doing so has a price.)

Over the last few weeks I've talked with a few minivan moms who have secretly sided with me.... they like their vans. Even though it makes them feel like MOM.

So I am going to do what most moms won't. I admit that I liked my minivan.

Spring Snow

Snowflakes fall to bare ground
Covering tender buds
Of tulip leaves and daffodil stalks
Leaving a blanket of white
Over
The scars of winter's wrath.

But, do not let the cover
Of white
Fool you.
There is still much work
to do

To enjoy to beauty of Spring.

Brought to You by the Letter A

I saw her on a Saturday afternoon, crouched low to the ground, peering around the wall of shelves at the art center, hoping to catch a glimpse. What does a person wearing a letter look like up close?

I saw her on a Friday morning as I walked around town, pushing my stroller and sipping my coffee, hanging posters in little shops and eateries for an upcoming PTO fundraiser. She crossed the street so as not to have to walk too closely, for fear of an actual conversation or a realization that perhaps I really wasn't all that crazy, as it has been claimed.

I saw her on a Saturday evening as I carried my plate back to the buffet line. She looked all around and then at the ground as she served out food, the letter making her to afraid to speak.

My husband saw him in a grocery store as he pushed a cart filled with the necessities of a newly formed family of six, his friend he used to drink beers with after monthly men's meetings. My husband doesn't have a letter, but he might as well have for the other man tried to get away so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. Perhaps he needn't have his eyes opened that wide in alarm.

I saw the couple on a Monday morning in the discount store, eyeing me from the other end of the cereal isle. "Why have we not seen your family around church any more?" they ask. "Perhaps you should ask _____________" I respond. "He can tell you why." I turn away as they whisper between themselves.

I saw her on a Tuesday afternoon as I walked into school to gather a child from parent pick-up. Sitting in her minivan, her face was directed straight out her front window, but her eyes watched me as I walked, waiting to spy the letter under my jacket or clasped in my hand that held my three year old's tiny fingers.

So much hangs on one little letter.

"It's okay," I say to the woman on Saturday afternoon, the one wearing the pottery apron, as she slowly stands up from her hiding spot on the floor and gets her glimpse up close. "I don't bite."

Night and Day

I have a friend who couldn't be more different than me. I am married, she is single. I have 4 children, she has 1. I have "regular" parents and lots of siblings, she is the child of a famous children's author. I am home with my girls, PTOing and driving carpools, She is working, and going to school. She is very organic, and I am learning to be, thanks to her. I think each of us has parts of a life that the other one wants to experience.

Our friendship began a year ago. Before that, I had thought she was a little "off." But our girls went to preschool together, and desperately wanted playdates. Finally, we began to talk. And I was so ashamed to say that I had judged her.

As I have with all my friends, I told her the entirety of the path my life went down, and she could have judged me, too. Instead, she lifted me up, embraced me. She had so much to offer me, new ways to grow, express anger and sorrow, ways to heal. I have learned so much about myself, people, life, God. She opens herself and her home up to me whenever I need it, without question, and often with sacrifice of her own. And I know when she shows up at my home that she has a need from me. The girls all play, and we drink tea or lemonade, and help each other the way only honest friendship can.

But most of all, she has taught me not to judge. Judgement has no part in a friendship.

We do not see each other often, but thanks to the blessing of electronics are able to keep in touch and share often. Countless days I am grateful to her for her being, because without her I do not think that I would be where I am, my family would be where we are.

On-going Journey

Last spring I posted the below. This past weekend, every time I was in the car, I heard the band Journey on the radio. I think it was a sign for me to share this again. My journey is on-going, and so are the truths that I have learned.

Five Truths of a Journey

I have learned a lot about myself in the last few months. Truths about myself that I never fully realized, but needed to.

1. I spent too much time focusing on new friends, and forgot about true friends. Thankfully, those true friends have stuck around to help me realize the error of my ways. And are continuing to stay by my side.

2. I am too trusting. I always assume that others have my best interests at heart. Afterall, that is where I have theirs.

3. I will no longer allow myself to be used for other's selfish gain, or selfish game. I was violently used and abused by people in order for them to get what they wanted, and then thrown very quickly under the bus, still used, regardless of how it left me in the end. No more being a doormat. It is time to stand up for myself.

4. No one is better than any one else in this world. It is easier to take someone else down than to lift yourself up. It is easier to follow lies than to listen to truth. Anyone who projects the air that he or she is better than someone else is recognizing the fact that there are truths in their life that they refuse to acknowledge.

5. Reminders of hurt follow a person everywhere. It all depends on how you let yourself live with them. I traveled 400 miles to bury and destroy parts of myself, only to turn around and come face to face with a reminder of what left me feeling so broken. I could drop to the ground and cry, or wipe my tears and put on a happy face. I chose the latter.

Unfortunately, realizing some of these truths mean I am changing the person that I am, the person that I used to be. But, maybe that is for the better. Even people who can be very bad to you can help you to be a better person in the end, and send your life in the right direction.

Namaste.

Sing a Song

I wouldn't say I was sheltered while growing up, but my parents did a good job of drawing the line and showing us what not to cross. All my adult life I have taken a lot of ribbing for the fact that I wasn't allowed to listen to the radio when I was younger. It never really bothered me, just added to my "interesting-ness" as a person. Only once did I let what a person said bother me, and that was very much to my detriment.

Every few weeks I hear a song that I simply cannot let go of. Most are faith-based (which is what I get teased about most often). For a few months this summer I was all about Rob Thomas, after going to one wonderful and very magical concert with my husband. Most of the songs I glom onto are about healing or forgiveness, some about love and how it grows and changes both for you and in you.

Last week I heard a song that couldn't be more fitting for life this past year (or three or four, to be honest). I'm not very savvy with internet posting, so I hope the link works for you, should you try.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OmWc4BZ8e-U

"Dancing in the Minefields," Andrew Peterson
I was nineteen, you were twenty-one
The year we got engaged
Everyone said we were much too young
But we did it anyway

We bought our rings for forty each
From a pawn shop down the road
We made our vows and took the leap
Now fifteen years ago

We went dancing in the minefields
We went sailing in the storm
And it was harder than we dreamed
But I believe that's what the promise is for

"I do" are the two most famous last words
The beginning of the end
But to lose your life for another I've heard
Is a good place to begin

'Cause the only way to find your life
Is to lay your own life down
And I believe it's an easy price
For the life that we have found

And we're dancing in the minefields
We're sailing in the storm
This is harder than we dreamed
But I believe that's what the promise is for

So when I lose my way, find me
When I lose love's chains, bind me
At the end of all my faith, till the end of all my days
When I forget my name, remind me

'Cause we bear the light of the Son of Man
So there's nothing left to fear
So I'll walk with you in the shadowlands
Till the shadows disappear

'Cause he promised not to leave us
And his promises are true
So in the face of all this chaos, baby,
I can dance with you

So let's go dancing in the minefields,
Let's go sailing in the storms,
Let's go dancing in the minefields,
And kicking down the doors.

Let's go dancing in the minefields,
And sailing in the storms,
This is harder than we dreamed,
But I believe it's what the promise is for.


We are still ready for battle. Are you?