Learning to Forgive

Last month, at church, I was listening to the minister read off the list of names and prayer requests that had been submitted that day. When the minister reached the point in the prayer where we spoke to God in silence for the prayers and concerns weighing on our hearts, I, as usual, began to pray.

I found myself praying that morning for two people who used to be in my life.

My eyes flew open, my stomach fell. WHAT WAS I THINKING?? Why was I giving thought and energy to people who had hurt me so badly?

"But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." Matthew 5:44

"And when you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone so that your Father also who is in heaven may forgive your transgressions." Mark 11:25

I have to forgive so that my life, my broken heart can heal, and I can move forward and be the mother, wife and friend I am supposed to be.

And it is hard.

I need to forgive someone who was so invested in themselves and too much of a coward that they could not see their way clear to telling the truth.

I need to forgive someone who has pointed fingers in my direction, not realizing that when you point a finger, there are three pointing back at you.

I need to forgive people for referring to me not by name, but rather by an acronym, with an easily determined meaning.

I need to forgive someone who has bullied friendships ranging from mere months to decades into lining up behind those pointing fingers.

I need to forgive those friendships for doing just that.

"...Do not judge, and you will not be judged; and do not condemn, and you will not be condemned..." Luke 6:37

But mostly, I need to forgive myself. For trusting what should not have been trusted, for believing what should not have been believed, and for hurting what did not deserve to be hurt.

"Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you." Ephesians 4:31-32

It is time.

How to Love Your House

Right around the same time that we began to start our family, we also began to find a house for that family. The family started on the one year anniversary of when we moved into the house. How little did we know about how big or how fast that family would grow!

I was the one who found our house, but my husband was the one who pushed us to buy it. The outside held much more appeal than the inside. The inside needed so much work, I was immediately turned off by it. But, my husband pushed, and it turns out that he was right to do so.

We have spent so much time working on our home, inside and out. We are never at a loss for something to change, something to make better. Parties that we have celebrated with friends. Children's first steps, first words, first days of school. Sometime along the way it became a place that we decided we never wanted to leave.

But we have been contemplating just that. Why? Because we are outgrowing our house. Our children are growing, by size, age and now number. In a few more months, there will be another "us" in the house to live, grow, laugh, cry.

So we have begun the unthinkable. We have started to look for a new house. Every now and then we think to ourselves, we can manage in this house with a bigger family. We can make it work. But maybe it is time for something new? Something better for us to make our mark in. Something to help us grow, just a little bit more.

The thought of leaving this house hurts our hearts. But we've had hurting hearts before, and they have always healed and shown us something better.

The Final Baby Frontier

My youngest is three. Long past the time ready for potty training, but that's my fault. Now she is asserting her stubborn attitude, a birthright she got from both her mommy and her daddy. I am sure that we will have a battle of wills. A learning experience for us both.

When it gets right down to it, I just wasn't ready to give up the babyness. I needed the comfort that it brings. The fragrant smell of a new package of diapers when you open them. The cuddles, tickles, hugs and kisses that invariably come at the end of a diaper change. I still sing my kids songs at night when I tuck them in. Still cuddle up to each of them, rub their backs, and inhale their smell. I wash their clothes separately, still, in baby detergent, even though my oldest is approaching the age of 7.

My lack of insistence on the potty training means that I have been changing diapers every day for almost the last 7 years. Sometimes more than one tooshie, too! But maybe it is time to let the babyness go.

Or is it?

An Angel in My Pocket

Some eight plus years ago, when my husband and I started out to begin our family, we found it very easy to get pregnant. The hard part was staying that way. After one particularly painful miscarriage, my mother sent me a little coin. An angel, for me to keep in my pocket. To comfort me in my (our) pain, and to remind me to keep faith.

I kept that coin in my pocket as often as I could. It saw me through one more miscarriage, and then the pregnancies and births of our three beautiful blonde, blue-eyed angels here on earth. Having done its job, I put the coin away for safekeeping.

Several months after my best friend was diagnosed with cervical cancer, I came upon that coin in my jewelry box. Holding it in my hands, I knew that I needed to send the angel to her. To stay with her during the pain and fear of her treatments, to comfort her when needed. To help her keep her faith.

And that she did. That angel stayed in her pocket everyday, or in her car, her purse, somewhere where she could feel its presence. We rejoiced together in happiness when she received good news, and cried together when we learned the prognosis was then grim.

Two months ago, she sent the angel back to me. I knew then that my friend was dying. The angel, she said, had fulfilled its job for her, keeping her comforted during her trials. As I was then (and still am) going through some trials of my own, she sent the angel back to me, to comfort me, and help me keep my faith. The angel has stayed in my pocket for the last 2 months.

One year and one day ago, we celebrated with my friend and her family at a "celebration of life" party. It seemed then that she had beaten her cancer, and life was wonderful. Today, she is being buried.

Our faith has been a common bond between us, especially the last two years. I will keep that angel with me now, as I continue to fight through my trials and look forward to a most happiest of endings. The angel will help me keep that bond of our friendship with me day by day.

Kristie, I love you and I miss you. Be one of my angels, always.

The Gift of an Open Door

It has taken me some time to realize a gift that I have been given. It didn't seem that way at first, to me.

Someone "gave" me friendship a few months ago. Gave me wonderful things, said wonderful things, wrote wonderful things. They seemed wonderful to me, anyway, better than what I thought I had in front of me.

But in reality, I was given a greater gift. That person's inability to be in my life opened up so many better things from the ones who already are. It allowed me to see the things and people I had for what and who they truly are. When one door closes another one opens up, right?

I was given my gift of writing back. And, oh, how I have written. Journaling, poetry. I am never at a loss for something to write when I sit down and put pen to paper, fingers to keyboard.

I was given the chance to talk with my husband about what we truly needed. And we were given the chance to give each other those needs. While our marriage is indeed different, it is now at a different level. Higher, richer, more meaningful, more loving. What marriage should be.

My friendships are stronger, healthier, more real. I know who I can trust, and who I cannot. I know that there is bad in the world, but there is also good. There are those who can love you for who you are, and forgive your faults, and love you more because of them.

There is a part of me that will always be missing because of the door that has closed. A part of me that I will always wonder about. I have the chance to realize things that I need to do, for me, to make me better and happier with who I am and for those I care about. I've made decisions for my future, things that I need to do for me. There are more parts of me, better parts of me, that are eager for the open doors in front of me.

Thank you for the gift of closed and opened doors.

Classroom Mom

Wednesday mornings I visit my oldest's first grade classroom, to read with the children, be a mother's helper. Do whatever I can to help the teacher. I love having this opportunity. My daughter loves to have me in the classroom, and is so proud. I think she even tries to work better when I am there! And I know the teacher really needs my help. They all do.

Today she gave me a task that I have not yet done before. A bulletin board. Ugh. Something crafty.

I hate crafts.

Really, I do. I do not have the patience to sit and cut little whatevers to fit into the spots they are designed for. Forget scrapbooking. That's why God made photo albums with already made sleeves. Knitting? Needlepoint? Too stressful for me. I get too agitated. About all I can really tolerate is crayon-coloring (something we do a lot of). Now THAT is cathardic.

I didn't get as far as the teacher wanted me to, I'm sure. I was too fastidious with how the background paper lined up with the edges, and how to get the least amount of staples into the board, making sure to leave enough non-stapled space for the other stuff she needs to put up!

I wonder if my task next week will be to finish the board, or if the teacher, or some other more crafty parent helper, will have redone it? Maybe I'll sneak back there tomorrow to check.

Lucky Mom

May is always a busy month for us. Ballet recitals, Balls, birthdays, graduation... the month seems to fly by. That's why I haven't had an opportunity yet to talk about my wonderful Mother's Day weekend. The whole weekend.

On Friday, I was lucky to spend time with my oldest and her ballet class, preparing for their amazing recital. One mom and seven girls. Sunday we enjoyed the show as only our big family could. But the show was magical, as my now 5 year old said. And who would have known that during this little ballet recital, I would have come upon a song that would move me as much as this one?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5IqCfxgKZd8

It has become my theme song. My reasons, my explanations for the last 8 months of my life, the hurt, the good, the bad, the people who have come in and made a mess and left. The friends who aren't at all what I thought they would be. I had a hard time picking myself up off the floor after hearing it. Still do. It's become the most played song on my iPod.

Saturday I spent a wonderful day with my family, traveling around the northwest corner of the state we live in. Enjoying the scenery, the time with each other. We shopped in little boutiques. Dined in a fancy restaurant. Drove. Laughed. Smiled.

At one point we were shopping in a kitchy little store. My three girls entertained themselves with books from the store, and hunkered down in the sloped-ceilinged dressing room. I heard giggles from behind the curtain, and saw six little feet sticking out from under it. I pulled back the curtain to see my favorite new picture, the screen saver that is now always in my mind. Three little blonde heads, 6 big blue eyes and 3 wonderful smiles looking back at me, all in a row.

The best Mother's Day present that could ever have been given.