September's End Daybook: Monday, September 30, 2013

Outside my window:
it's dark.
I am thinking:
that I shouldn't have eaten the entire cheeseburger last night.
I am thankful:
that all my boys seem to be healthy as of last night and that it's going to be warm and sunny all week!
In the kitchen:
it smells like something burned and that could be because I turned on the coffee pot without putting the water in it first.  Hello, Monday morning.
I am wearing:
blue plaid pjs, a white tshirt and one of my husband's sweatshirts.
I am listening to:
the shower running, the dryer spinning and a neighbor rolling out his trash can.
I am going:
finally, to lunch with a friend which was cancelled last week due to my sick little people.
I am reading:
I finished Blue Like Jazz last night while I was in the bathtub and it appears that I'm going to have to buy a new one for the library because there was an unfortunate accident what with the bathtub being full of water and all.  I might have to buy about 100 copies though because I want to give that book to everyone.  Did I mention that I LOVED it?
I am hoping:
that a friend of mine can keep hoping and believing that the situation in her home can be better.  She deserves a break in the chaos and if she can't hope it right now, I'm going to keep on hoping for her.
I am looking forward to:
a Beth Moore study of James at my church this week and running in The Race for Every Child on Team Gavin this Saturday morning.
I am learning:
that just listening and hearing about a friend's struggles is better than offering solutions, especially when solutions are so hard for a human mind to conjure.
I am praying:
for parents of teenagers and for the teenagers.  And for parents of adult children and toddlers and newborns and kids that break out in hives for five days.  Just for parents, I guess.  All of us, questioning, worrying, struggling and trying desperately to trust that it all will be okay.
I am pondering:
pretty much all of Chapter 17 of Blue Like Jazz on Worship including: 
" . . there are things you cannot understand, and you must learn to live with this.  Not only must you learn to live with this, you must learn to enjoy this.  I want to tell you something that you may see as weakness. I need wonder.  I know that death is coming.  I smell it in the wind, read it in the paper, watch it on television, and see it on the faces of the old.  I need wonder to explain what is going to happen to me, what is going to happen to us when this thing is done, when our shift is over and our kids' kids are still on the earth listening to their crazy rap music.  I need something mysterious to happen after I die.  I need to be somewhere else after I die, somewhere with God, somewhere that wouldn't make any sense if it were explained to me right now."  Oh my gosh, Amen, Don Miller, Amen.
On my Ipod:
Mercy Me's I Can Only Imagine (but I'm just guessing that I might dance)
A quote for today:
"When we reduce Christian spirituality to math we defile the Holy.  I thought that was very beautiful and comforting because I have never been good at math.  Many of our attempts to understand Christian faith have only cheapened it.  I can no more understand the totality of God than the pancake I made for breakfast understands the complexity of me." -again from Blue Like Jazz.  Just go on and read it.  At least Chapter 17.
A verse for today:
"Many, O Lord my God, are the wonders you have done.  The things you planned for us no one can recount to you;  were I to speak and tell of them, they would be too many to declare." - Psalm 40:5
One of my favorite things:
80 degrees in the forecast for the first week of October
A few plans for the week:
a flood of golfers and volunteers will be appearing in my inbox for the Gavin Rupp Open, all three boys will play in the Longhorn Stampede Baseball Tournament this weekend and this little baby boy is turning fifteen.

Daybook idea from http://www.thesimplewomansdaybook.blogspot.com/

No More Tub Toys & Other Signs of the Times

Some days I feel inspired and I write something that somehow comes out helpful and/or insightful to a person or two.  And that is flattering and humbling. 

And then there's today.

I'm on day four of house arrest with sick kid number two. . and I just feel compelled to write something . . . anything . . . because, well, four days inside with sick kids.  The point is, please proceed with very low expectations, friends.

Sick kid number one threw up over the weekend and then we found out he had strep late Monday so that he couldn't go to school on Tuesday..  Sick kid number two came home on Tuesday with some weird rash and hives all over his body, but no other symptoms.  Frankly, it's a little bit creepy.  And I've been doling out antibiotics and Benedryl and making faces while putting cortisone on red welts. 

I know what you're thinking.  I'm so very much like Mother Teresa.

The good news is that sick kid number one is back in school and except for the itchiness, sick kid number two feels fine.  As in, he is still talking to me.  A lot.  He is a man among boys in the talking department.  He cannot be stopped.  Not even by massive doses of Benedryl.  He laughs at Benedryl.  We have talked about how his 3rd grade class has to have PE with the 2nd graders and about how the 2nd graders can be really annoying and childish because clearly, third graders are way more mature.  I'm quite sure they hold riveting conversations while waiting to play 4-Square that the 2nd graders cannot possibly follow.  We have discussed the various batting stances of David Ortiz and Dustin Pedroia and Bryce Harper.  We have watched Good Luck, Charlie and Dog with a Blog and ESPN.  We did the make up homework and read some books and did I mention the chatting?  Just now, I filled up the bath with baking soda and my little patient is soaking in there.

So, if Mother Teresa sat outside the bathroom and drank a diet Coke while she blogged about herself, I would have to say that yes, we are exactly alike. 

It's been awhile since any of the boys took a bath, so it seems that I threw out the 6,453,000 tub toys we used to own.  Therefore, a raging battle has commenced in the tub involving two plastic baseball players and four plastic cups.  There seems to be a tsunami of sorts happening.  And the plastic catcher is drowning right now.  It's a harrowing ordeal in there.

The lack of bathroom toys is yet another reminder to me, like just about everything else lately it seems, that my kids are growing up fast and I cannot go back.  Which brings me to this:

Tonight will be my third back to school night of the school year.  I have already been to two and my track record is not great in the paying attention department, but tonight is HIGH SCHOOL.  BIG TIME, right?  I've got to pull it together tonight.  No more shenanigans like at the Middle School.

I tried at the Middle School.  I really did.  I didn't even sit next to the lovely and talented Mrs. C, just to be sure that I would behave.  I sat in front of her and I did listen.  Except when she passed a note up to me that said:

Check Yes or No.  Have you ever kissed a boy?

It sort of fell apart after that because then I went to hear the Pre-Algebra teacher and this is what was on the board:

Buzzy showed up for work today to discover that his delivery truck was in the shop.  The mechanic told Buzzy that his truck would be ready 2 days after the day before the day after tomorrow.  When should Buzzy expect his truck?

Y'all, I am not even making that up and you know good and well that I couldn't pay attention after that because all I could think about was how Buzzy's mechanic just lost a customer for being a pompous jerk and now Buzzy needs to write a scathing review on yelp.com.

Tonight, though, I must be very mature and very focused.  That's going to be a challenge because one of Joe's teachers is one of my really good friends and during her Pre-AP History presentation, I might need to raise my hand and ask her what she's planning to wear to the Bon Jovi concert this year. 

But, no, I can't do that..  We will be hearing about Romeo and Juliet and To Kill a Mockingbird, about quadratic equations and trigonometry, about Early Civilizations and about PSAT schedules.  I must be responsible and attentive.  There is a transcript to consider.  There are college applications just down the road.  No messing around, ok?  This is important stuff here.

I am the mother of a high school student.  He doesn't play with plastic boats in the tub.  He uses Axe instead of Johnsons & Johnson's No More Tears.  He had an Algebra II-Trig test today.  He's going to the Homecoming Dance this year.  He told me this morning that all of his jeans are too short. 

Serious business, people.  I think I'm breaking out in hives.

On Apples & Trees & Getting by with a Little Help from Your Friends

I have three boys who all play baseball.

Hello, are you new here?

Anyway, if you're not new here, you already know that there are wins and there are losses and we handle these things to the best of our ability which often times frankly, is not how Jesus would handle these things.  We try to learn lessons and we try to highlight the positive and we try to be all stoic and such.  

Having three different children with three different personalities means that some handle losing better than others.  There just so happens to be one who in general handles losing slightly less well than the other two.  We're going to just hypothetically call him, ummmm . . .Kyle.  This is not a hard and fast rule.  It's just that in general with Kyle there is less poker face and more my dog just got run over by a truck face.  Less standing straight, head held high and more my shoulders weigh 257 pounds and my neck has ceased to do its job of holding up my head.  Now in full disclosure, this hypothetical kid named Kyle comes by it honestly.

Exhibit A: His hypothetical dad, Steve, told me that when he was about six years old and was losing the family bowling game, he crawled under the seats at the bowling alley and would not come out.

Exhibit B:  Just about a week ago, my family and I were enjoying a Saturday morning breakfast at Panera where I was reading this USA Today article which was all lovey-dovey about the Texas Aggies, the arch rivals of my beloved and beleaguered Texas Longhorns.

Again, are you new here?

In the article MY President, the one who I worked to get re-elected and because of whom I met my husband, said that he and Barbara are "Aggies to the core" which made me feel like someone stabbed me right in my burnt orange, Republican heart.  It also mentioned that some punk  defensive player on the Aggies had tweeted that Texas A&M, due to my team's downward spiral into football hell recent difficulties, was now considered "the university of Texas".

Y'all.

I almost lost my mind right there in front of my children, my husband and many other families innocently enjoying their Saturday morning bagels.  It was kinda like this:

Exhibit C:  Later that evening my Texas Longhorns played like Pee Wee football players and lost to Ole Miss and I did something like this:

So, poor Kyle.  The apple doesn't fall from the tree.  Either tree, apparently.

But there is a redemptive story here to tell.  The very day after my tantrum(s), Kyle had a double header.  His baseball team happened to be playing Gavin Rupp's team.  Gavin, who you know, if you're not new here, was a courageous 13 year old baseball player from our area who passed away this summer after a battle with brain cancer. Gavin's dad, Chris, still coaches Gavin's buddies and it turns out that the team has changed its name to the Warriors and the players wear Gavin's #15 on their sleeves. 

I know, right?  Take a deep breath and try not to cry.  It's still just too much to take.

The Warriors beat our team in both games.  Our kids played hard.  They stayed with them in Game One, but in Game Two, the wheels came off.  The Warriors were good.  They hit like crazy and we couldn't come back.  The score was something like a gazillion to three.  I braced myself as I climbed into the car with he who does not fall far from the tree. 

Tree:  Tough game, right, bud?  Yikes.

Apple:  Yea. (Shrugs shoulders, looks me in straight in the eye, does not have his face pressed against the car window, no pouting to be seen.)

We drive for awhile and I wait for the groaning and sighing to start.

Apple:  Mom, you know that kid, George, the catcher?  We just could not figure that kid out, you know.  He had like five hits off of us.

Tree:  Yea.  He was good, huh?

Apple:  Yea . . .You know, Wilson told me that George is Gavin's best friend.

Tree:  Oh, really? 

Apple:  Yea.  (suppressing a smile, eyebrows raise)

Tree:  Hmmm.  Pretty solid player, that kid.

Apple:  Yep. (the beginnings of a grin)

Tree:  and . . . he's got some friends in high places, huh?

Kyle looked out the window then and a smile as wise as it was wide spread across his twelve year old face.

I might be making a leap here.  It's possible that his smile didn't quite hold all the lessons that I think it did.  But, I know this.  He wasn't pouting.  He wasn't thinking only of himself.  He wasn't going to spend the rest of the drive home brooding over the loss.
 
I think my son just knew some things that day that he might not have really known before and I'm not going to assume that he'll remember them every game going forward.  But, for that day maybe he knew that everything in life is about perspective.  Maybe he knew that losing a baseball game is not the most terrible thing that can happen to a twelve year old boy.  Maybe he knew that we can hold the people we lose safe in our hearts and that true friendships can endure for all of eternity.  Maybe he knew that strength can come from something greater than ourselves.  Maybe at some level he knew the truth of Hebrews 12:1:

". . .since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us."
 
I had braced myself and had thought that I would be looking at sadness that day, but instead I looked for some beauty. 

I think my boy and I found some. 

Hey, Gavin, how 'bout them apples?  Happy birthday, buddy.

Daybook Interrupted: Mon. Morning & Afternoon: 9/23/13

Outside my window:
it is overcast and cool.
I am thinking:
about needing a long run today and what to wear because 54 is not my favorite temperature.  Deep thoughts.
I am thankful:
for my parents.  Each and every day, as I meet more and more people, I become keenly aware of how rare are parents like mine.  Unconditional love, forgiveness and commitment are not as easy for everyone, even for parents, as we all assume they should be.  My parents are a wonder to me and I am so grateful.
In the kitchen:
the coffee pot is empty.
I am wearing:
black and white, warm pjs with long sleeves and long pants.  It's cold this morning.
I am listening:
to the sprinkler hit the window and my hubby turn the pages of the newspaper.
I am going:
to make dinner for a family that has nothing on the calendar tonight.  Mine!  How did that happen?
I am reading:
Blue Like Jazz by Don Miller and Wonder by RJ Palacio
I am hoping:
that my middle man does not throw up today and that the rest of my people can stay safe from the evil stomach virus he has.
I am looking forward to:
a week of beautiful weather in the 70s, baseball games and planning Gavin's Golf Tournament
I am praying:
for Gavin's family as his birthday comes tomorrow, for Kyle's tummy to settle, for new beginnings.

(this daybook was interrupted by a sick child waking up, a desperate need for that run and a trip to CVS.)

I am pondering:
the Facebook page that our community has.  There is often wonderful, useful information posted on the page.  And then there are the times it is used for venting, pointing fingers and becoming an outlet for every Complain Elaine in the 'hood. 
I am wondering:
if I might find a reference to a Jesus Freak runner who sings too loudly while she runs with her Ipod blaring in her ears around the neighborhood on said community Facebook page this afternoon.  That would be me, Elaine.  Sorry.
On my Ipod:
Matt Maher's Lord, I Need You and Third Day's Creed.  These are what that Jesus Freak runner was singing this morning.  Please click and enjoy the original versions without the panting and the missed notes.
A quote for today:
"The most difficult lie I have ever had to contend with is this:  Life is a story about me. . . No rut in the world is as deep as the one that says I am the world, and the world belongs to me, all people are characters in my play.  There is no addiction so powerful as self-addiction."  - Don Miller, Blue Like Jazz
A verse for today:
"To you O Lord, I lift up my soul; in you I trust, O my God." -Psalm 25:1
One of my favorite things:
when a golfer finds the swing he seemed to have lost and beats his dad for the first time ever.
A few plans for the week:
1/4 of Drew's team is throwing up and Kyle is throwing up, so I think the plan is to try to keep the rest of my people healthy.
A peek into my day: 
A lot of this:

Daybook idea from http://www.thesimplewomansdaybook.blogspot.com/

What's my name again?

My mom called yesterday to say she was a little worried about me because I hadn't been writing.  She knows, like I know, that writing keeps me going and empties out my worries and stress and fills me up with peace. There's been a lot since school started.  Just A LOT.  I have five posts started and five posts stopped for various reasons.

The thing is that there has been loads of writing going on here.  Much of it is insightful and inspiring poetry that is similar to the following:

Email 1-5:  Hi, Girls.  Tuesday I'll take the boys and pick them up:  Never mind. I'll take the boys and Karen will pick them up because she has to pass out uniforms.  I can't wait to see how many Kyles can fit into the pants that I ordered.  I'm going with 3 Kyles.  Never mind, Karen driving both ways.

Email 6-15:  Hi, Other Girls.  Jenn will take two boys to Kandy's on Wednesday and Kandy takes the boys to the game.  Adrienne picks them up.  Never mind.  Kandy picks everybody up and takes them to the game and then goes to Back to School Night.  Steve heads to the game after Drew's practice and brings everyone home.  We'll switch cars.  Never mind.  Kandy will leave Back to School night early to get her boys.  Steve has the other two.

Email 16:  I can't remember who is doing what tonight?  What's my name again?

Email 17-25:  On Wednesday Jenn will pick all four boys up at school.  Regena will pick up Subway for everyone and meet Jenn at her house with the food and her kid's stuff. Tell Regena what your kid wants to eat.  Don't forget to tell the Subway gal to use a clean knife on the one with turkey, cheese, lettuce, pickles and mustard or that one will turn into an anaphylaxis sandwich of death.  Be sure to drop your kid's bat bag at Jenn's house.

Email 26:  AND THE UNIFORM!  Don't forget cleats.  Are all the boys epipen trained???

Email 27-30:  Here's Jenn's garage code for dropping off the bat bags.  At least I think that's the code.  If that's not right, I'm sure the kids didn't lock the door to the screened-in porch when I told them to, so go there.  Jenn will collect the Back to School night schedules.  Jenn will take boys to the game and they'll leave crumbs and Subway wrappers all over her car. Somebody's husband will bring them home - HOPEFULLY ONE OF US HAS A WEDDING PICTURE WITH SAID HUSBAND. 

Email 31:  PS.  If you make it into the garage, be sure to hold your breath because I think there is some sort of science experiment going on in the trash can.  Feel free to steal the Margarita Wine Cooler from the back of the garage fridge - it's been there since 2010. 

Email 32:  Switch Jenn and Regena's name in all previous emails regarding Wednesday.

Email 33:  If everyone is still breathing, Jacqui will pick all of us up and drive us to Back to School night.  I hope Jacqui knows how to get to the school because I still can't even remember my own name. 

Email 6,204:  CAN WE FIND A CAB COMPANY AND IS IT POSSIBLE THAT THE PTA IS OFFERING AN OPEN BAR AT BACK TO SCHOOL NIGHT?

There you have it, folks.  Very inspiring, very deep, very insightful.  I think it's pretty much God breathed, don't you?

No, it's not.  But I found some stuff that definitely is for you few folks who took a hard left into crazytown with me and stayed until the end here.  I've got some really good links for you.

Unfortunately, all my emails and communications with Husband have looked like the above this week.  You, too?  I think this is a very important read for those of us who've been married awhile.

http://popchassid.com/didnt-love-wife/

Also, in the midst of all these emails and trying to remember my own name, I've been praying like mad for quite a few folks who are suffering deeply.  And because of those folks and then on the heels of the Navy Yard shooting, I am wrestling with the question I'm asked often.  WHY DOES GOD ALLOW PAIN AND SUFFERING?  I don't know what to say or to write about suffering most days.  I don't know the answer.  Jen Hatmaker writes beautifully about this question here.

http://jenhatmaker.com/blog/2013/09/17/why-does-god-allow-pain-and-suffering

Reading Jen Hatmaker's article made me realize that in the midst of terrible suffering or even just in the midst of email/carpool madness, it's really okay if I am so overwhelmed that I can't even remember my own name.  There is really only one thing I must remember today.

"Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God."  - John 1:12

I am a child of God.  He loves me.  ME.  Scatter-brained, flaky, superfreaking-out ME.  I belong to Him.  That's all I need to know today. That's all we all need to know.  But I still might go take a glance at my checkbook, just to jog my memory.

Be well today, people. :)

Lots of Links on a Tuesday Daybook, September 17, 2013

Outside my window:
September in Virginia is too beautiful for words.
I am thinking:
about a Wednesday night with one baseball practice, two baseball games, one back to school night and one mama and one daddy and thankfully, a big ol' village of mamas and daddies and email traffic trying to figure it all out.
I am thankful:
for the mercy of a God who never gives up on us, who must be so saddened by our brokenness and yet wakes us today with a clear, blue, bright sky shining hope in a dark, disturbed world.  And for the grace of our God who gives us a conviction and purpose to dust off, stumble on, look up and try again.
In the kitchen:
there will be some crockpot action today.
I am wearing:
jeans and a JCrew navy and white striped shirt.  Y'all. There is 25% off at JCrew right now.  The whole stinkin' store, I think!  Squeal!!!
I am listening:
to the news about the Navy Yard shooting.  Oh, people.  In this world we do have trouble, huh?
I am reading:
Still reading Wonder by RJ Palacio to my kids when we can find evenings when all three are home. Also, continuing  Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller.  It is such a bummer to me that this is a library book because I want to highlight about 80% of it.  It is a beautiful, funny, insightful book on Christianity.  If you are a lifelong-in-the-tank-for-Jesus Christian or if you are questioning and searching and aren't sure about Jesus, this might just be the book for everyone.  I'm only half way through and I can't tell you how many times I have sighed and said, "Yes.  Yes.  Yes.  That is my faith, that is my God, that is my Jesus.  Yes. That's what I'm talking about, Don!!"
I am going:
to likely write a whole post on Wonder and on Blue Like Jazz. I do believe the last post I devoted to a book was THIS ONE about the Memoirs of the great American novelist, Rob Lowe.  My reading tastes are a mystery, folks.
I am hoping:
to remember that all I ever need to say to my ball players is I love to watch you play. Read THIS, please.  And let me just go out on a limb and say, Daddies, read this, please.  Thanks to my friend, Elizabeth, who knows a thing or two (or nine) about watching kids play, for linking to it. 
I am looking forward to:
a golf tournament honoring Gavin Rupp on October 21st.  Wanna play?  Wanna volunteer?  Wanna contribute an auction item?  Let me know!
I am learning:
that there are things in this life that I can read about and study about and even experience over and over and over and I still will never ever understand.  Which brings me to:
A quote for today:
"I did not design the human mind to figure out the future.  That is beyond your capability.  I crafted your mind for continual communication with Me." - Jesus Calling
I am praying:
for the victims of the Navy Yard shooting and their families;  for a world full of broken, desperate, confused people;  that He might bring us hope.
On my Ipod:  
The most perfect song for today by Third Day: The Sun is Shining
I am pondering:
"My life testifies that the first thing I believe is that I am the most important person in the world . . . I am learning to believe better things.  I am learning to believe that other people exist, that fashion is not truth; rather, Jesus is the most important figure in history and the gospel is the most powerful force in the universe.  I am learning not to be passionate about empty things, but to cultivate passion for justice, grace, truth, and communicate the idea that Jesus likes people and even loves them." -Donald Miller in Blue Like Jazz (emphasis, mine)
A verse for today:
"Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time" - 1 Peter 5:6
One of my favorite things:
when the little one and his teammates win five games in a row to take the championship at a tournament HERE and even though the big ones had losses, they still high five and hug and smile and are as proud as they could be of the little one.
A few plans for the week:
Reading Romans for Community Bible Study, baseball games, avoiding all the mirrors at Back to School Night at the Middle School. ( Remember last year?), and an away tourney for the middle man in Newport News, VA.
A peek into my day: 
Mom's got homework

 

Daybook idea from http://www.thesimplewomansdaybook.blogspot.com/

Remembering

 



The day is here again, twelve years later, and we don't want to go there.  It is a brutal, horrific memory.  Each morning that we have woken since, the pain has dulled until we arrive here when it hits us again.  We might not want to dredge up the memory and yet I think it's so very important.  I think it's crucial to bring our minds and hearts back to the terrifying pain because we, who are blessed to be here on this day, in this country, we owe them something.  And I find that after I push through the pain of remembering, I can, at the end of this day, focus on the days following September 11, 2001.  It is in those memories that I am able to find thoughts, not of terror and fear, but of bravery, kindness and love.  It is with those memories that I have found something with which to honor those we lost.

In the days following, September 11, 2001 I remember the clear blue and quiet sky, suddenly absent of the whir of airplanes which I had become accustomed to hearing fly over my house near Dulles Airport.  I remember walking slowly and gently through the days, feeling absolutely no urgency to do anything or go anywhere. I remember smiling weakly, but deliberately at strangers and getting a comforting, sympathetic smile back.  I remember giving the cashier at the grocery store a pat on the arm and looking her deep in the eyes.   I remember letting people merge in ahead of me on the highway.  I remember that before that day, I had been irritated that the slightly elderly contractor I had hired was taking forever to finish my basement.  I remember after that day watching as he rolled up in his truck, a giant American flag flying out of the back window.  I remember staring into his weathered, sad eyes and knowing that I couldn't care less about my basement.  I remember that after that day all of us were better to each other, for each other, for a long while.  

Each year on this day I remember that morning and a few years ago I wrote those memories down for my children, but really for me.  I posted it last year and I'll post it below again just to be sure that I read it and remember.  It is rushed and rambling and panicky which is exactly how I felt.  There are and there will be folks who will write more eloquently, who will have much more harrowing and heroic and meaningful lessons to impart about that day.  Still, I think for each of us it is important to sit with our own memories of that day no matter where we might have been. 

I was a housewife and a mom, safe and snug, in my home on that morning.  Today I'll remember every detail, every emotion, every urgent plea to God. Because in going back to the horror and the guilt I felt at being spared, I will also go back to the bravery, the patriotism, the unity, the grace, the compassion and the giving that came after.  I want to remember all of it.  I want to remember how we all behaved better for many days and weeks afterwards, so that today I can work to be better still.  Those beautiful souls that we lost that day are not here to live their best life.  They deserve that we do just that.  They deserve that their country and their people always remember to try to be better for them.

September 11, 2001
My 2 year old was watching Blue’s Clues.  My 8 month old finally was taking a nap.  Things were changing – I was feeling better.  This was how a day in the life of a stay at home mom , a girl who had everything she ever wanted, was supposed to be.  Only 3 weeks before I had suffered confusing and terrifying panic attacks.  What was wrong with me?  It couldn’t be postpartum depression.  My baby was 8 months old.  Didn’t that happen soon after the baby was born?  But today, I was feeling like I was fixed.  I had seen a wonderful, helpful doctor.  The baby was finally sleeping a bit more.  He was scheduled.  My 2 year old was happy and about to start preschool.  My husband was funny and cute and smart and understanding.  He had taken care of me when I was hurting.  I was blessed.  I made the beds.  I cleaned up the rooms.    I remember thinking that morning that all was going to be okay.   I remember I was wearing a white t-shirt and khaki shorts.  I was thinking:  I’ve still got a tan, I’m lookin' kinda cute, I’m happy, my family is healthy, I’m not panicky.  This is a good day.

The sun was bright.  The sky was perfectly blue.  My baby, ironically, I guess, was wearing a blue onesie with “Future President” on it and a picture of the White House…a gift from his uncle who worked in the State Department.  My toddler was watching Nick Jr.  Today, 8 years later, the rain comes down.  Today there is another boy.  Two at school and one sleeping in a big boy bed.  Today it seems so far away.  Today it isn’t the first thing I think of when I wake up anymore.  Today the memories, though I thought I would not forget a minute, are less clear.  What I do remember:  the sky, the sun and the quiet in the house except for that Steve guy in the striped green shirt and his dog, Blue, taking my son on an adventure to find a clue.  

I first saw it on the internet…the first building smoking , then went upstairs standing in my bedroom watching the plane hit the tower...not even listening to the commentators…not conceiving of its gravity…just something bizarre that happened.  I seriously did not consider that people were in that building for quite awhile that morning.  A small plane off course?  A pilot who had a heart attack?  Maybe one or two deaths in that plane…tragic, but not big news…I wasn’t thinking of people in the building.  I wasn’t thinking terrorism…I wasn’t thinking about what would come next.   I called Steve who was in downtown DC and asked if he saw it.  I watched it over and over while talking to him…straight into the building.  Weird, huh?  Steve hadn’t heard about it.  What I didn’t know as I spoke to Steve was that I was watching the second plane crash into the building, live.  We hung up.  A regular hang up.  Probably didn’t say I love you.  I probably got a diet coke.  I checked on the baby.  I kept watching upstairs - my baby sleeping, my toddler watching…maybe Dora now.  I kept watching. But now I turned up the volume.  I listened, too.

This is bigger than I thought. I have no idea how big.  Matt and Katie.  They sound scared and confused.  It’s deliberate.  It’s two planes.  It’s smoke and fire and fear.  Now that guy at the Pentagon.  Something happens while he’s reporting.  He shakes and ducks at the noise.  What’s going on?  This is big.  This is really, really big.  They’re coming from everywhere.  The planes are coming from everywhere. Now a report that there is some kind of explosion at the State Department.   This is madness.  My house is quiet, the sky is blue, my baby is sleeping, my boy is watching Dora the Explorer. My husband is in DC.  My husband is in DC.  My husband is in DC.  I call him again.  There is no answer.  No voice mail with his voice.  A busy signal.  Again, again, again and I still can’t hear my husband’s voice.  His phone never goes to the busy signal.  Never...it's always the voicemail.  Never the busy signal.  The planes are crashing everywhere.    A field now…where?  Please, please, please.  Not this day.  This will be the day so many have lost their husbands. Will this be my day?  Will this be it?  Now I’m downstairs….I’m outside in the backyard…no neighbors out…no one screaming.  It’s just a day.  The sky is blue, the sun is shining, the baby is sleeping, the boy is watching, my husband is in DC.  I run upstairs and put on my cross necklace.  I wear it everyday…why didn’t I have it on?  What was I thinking?  I’m holding it so tight that my fingers hurt.  Straight to the busy signal again.  Again and again and again…where is he?  Is he gone?  Is there another plane?  Now back to the living room.  I’m kneeling at the white chair…the one I have probably sat in twice since I bought it.  I'm kneeling and  I’m praying with all my might. Not today.  Not today.  Not today.  Today will not be the day.  Please God, please, please.  Please, God, not today.  Bring him home, please, please.  I’ll do anything.  Please, please.  I won’t complain about sleepless nights and loads of laundry and dirty diapers.  I won’t.  Please, please.  I promise.  Not today.    

I am pleading Him with every bit of myself and I’m hitting redial again and again and again.  And suddenly, I am a little girl again and I’m calling my parents.  I can’t find him.  I can’t find him.  Now I’m crying.  Now I’m scared.  My mom is yelling to my dad, “It’s  Jenn.  She can’t get a hold of Steve.  She’s hysterical.”  In the midst of my hysteria, I remember feeling a shred of confusion/offense…hysterical?  I am?  Wait…I’m not hysterical…why is my mother calling me hysterical?  That only lasted a second, probably because I was too busy being hysterical.  I hang up.  I check on the baby…still sleeping…this baby that never sleeps.  Now Joe is watching a third show…who even knows which one.  He has not moved from the corner of the blue sofa…his eyes zoned.  (This has not changed since he is now 10…the world can be crashing around him, literally, and if he’s watching TV, he’s oblivious)

My friend, Becky, calls.  I can’t get Steve on the phone I say.  My voice is shaking.  I’m about to cry again.  The sky is blue, the sun is shining, the baby is sleeping, my toddler is watching tv, my husband...I can’t get him on the phone.   I’ll come over, she says.  Do you want me to come over?  Please, yes.  Before she gets here, Steve calls.  In the exact same moment, I am overcome with gratitude and with embarrassment that I was so worried.  Of course, this is not the day.  Not for me.  This would not happen to me.  He says, it’s okay.  I’m in my car.  I’m on my way home.  Everyone is leaving.  It will be awhile because of the traffic leaving, but I’m following a co-worker who knows a different way out of the city.  I love you.  It’s okay. It’s okay.  It's okay.

And it was okay for me.  It was fine for me.  It was fine for most everyone that I knew personally.  I had nothing to worry about.  I think back and I feel slightly guilty that I was praying for my husband who was obviously (at least now it is obvious) safe, when so many women at home, my age, women exactly like me, had husbands who were not safe. Not safe at all.   Steve was in an office building somewhere in the city…not near the Pentagon and there was no explosion at the State Department where my brother-in-law worked, as had been reported.  All my friends working on the Hill were fine, but at the time I thought the planes were going everywhere.  I had never thought about terrorism for a day in my entire life.   A political science major? And not once had I considered it. Not even when there was the explosion years before at the World Trade Center. It was something that happened far away from where I was. I never considered it. Never. And certainly not as a threat to my family.

My true fear lasted a couple of hours maybe.  There are so many stories of inspiration and tragedy from that day.  That is not my story...nothing tragic, nothing heroic.  Many of us, Americans, were just fine.  Except that we weren't.  We would never be the same again.  I carry those hours and that day and the excruciating weeks and months that followed with me everyday.  I still don’t think there is a day that I haven’t thought in one way about that morning. 

I often wonder what I will tell my kids about it.  They don’t ask really.  They have it in a textbook at school now, just like I had Pearl Harbor in a textbook.  I didn’t think about Pearl Harbor too often really.  Just another day that people mention.  I want to tell them that this day, this September 11th, is bigger.  It is bigger and more horrible and more worthy than all of the other days.  It was the day I prayed and prayed and prayed and got the answer I wanted when so many others did not.  It was the day that their daddy walked through the front door of our house in his suit and his tie like he has hundreds and hundreds of days since.   It was a day that jolted me from my unfounded anxiety and showed me real anxiety.  It was a day that will come again and again every year and I will kneel down every single time and thank God for answering me with what I wanted to hear and I will feel guilty and grateful all at the same time.

(Fake?) Sick Day Daybook: Monday, September 9, 2013

Outside my window:
afternoon sun peeking in and out from behind the clouds.
I am thinking:
about the difference, if there is one, in being "judgmental" and "making a judgment".  Many an article I've read online makes me nod my head in agreement and then I read a slew of comments to the article slamming the author for being "judgmental" and sometimes I nod my head in agreement there as well.  But, can we not have opinions about certain behaviors and actions?  Aren't we to teach our children to make sound judgments/choices/decisions and sometimes does that not involve judgments regarding individuals?  Perhaps the difference is in making a judgment about a person's behavior, but not about that person's worth/motives/soul?  Thinking a lot about this.  Maybe writing more on it later.
I am thankful:
for this bracelet and the reminder it gave me today.  Someone in this house woke up with a annoying persistent cough.  Someone might have been playing me, but someone has a history of asthma so it's easy to play me.  Someone's cough appeared to dissipate enormously somewhere between episode 3 of The Berenstein Bears and lunch out with his mama.  My list of errands and plans was already shot.  I was irritated until I looked down at my bracelet and I was reminded of my promise to Gavin to look for beauty.  An 8 year old who maybe could've gone to school today but instead is on the couch with his feet in my lap as I type is beauty.  An 8 year old who probably isn't missing learning Algebra concepts in the 2nd week of school is beauty.  An 8 year old who is here with me on this day at this moment can be beauty.  I'm not annoyed anymore, Gavin.  I am thankful. (but he WILL be at school tomorrow!)

 

In the kitchen:
cough drops, orange juice, triaminic
I am wearing:
jeans, sandals, white button down shirt
I am listening to:
The Berenstein Bears:  Episode:  The Gimmes
I am reading:
I finished Unbroken which was just so good that I can't even find words for it.  I am still reading Wonder to my boys each night that we are able to pull it off and it has been one of the best things we have ever done together.  Just starting Blue like Jazz by Donald Miller.
I am hoping:
for some writing/blogging inspiration this week.  I found myself last week with loads of time as the kids went to school and yet I couldn't form a coherent thought which really wasn't any emergency.  It's not like this blog is a job.  But I realized that without the writing I felt both too empty and too full.  It seems weird, but that is what this space does for me.  It empties me out and fills me back up.
I am looking forward to:
starting a new year of Community Bible Study this week with a study of Romans.
I am learning:
that I got a lot more excited about Joe's Freshman English reading list than he did.  Romeo and Juliet!  To Kill a Mockingbird!  Squeal!!!
I am praying:
for another little boy, Mathias, whose mom I met at a fundraiser for the Gavin Rupp Medical Fund. Mathias is fighting osteosarcoma.  His mom is beautiful and faithful and so is Mathias.  I'm praying for all the children fighting cancer again because there are too many children and there will never be too many prayers.
On my Ipod:
I Will Hold My Head High by Third Day
I am wondering:
how it is that the Texas Longhorns, based on their humiliating loss to BYU Saturday night, CANNOT TACKLE ANY BETTER THAN MY 8 YEAR OLD NEIGHBOR WHO IS PLAYING HIS FIRST YEAR OF ANKLEBITERS FOOTBALL!  DEFENSE!! LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM USING CAPITAL LETTERS AT YOU!  BOYS, PUH-LEEZE!  ARE YOU DRINKING TOO MANY MARGARITAS BEFORE THE GAME?  BECAUSE I REALIZE THAT'S WHAT I DID AT TEXAS, BUT THERE WAS NOT A CRAZY WOMAN IN VIRGINIA COUNTING ON ME FOR HER WEEKEND HAPPINESS!  YOU HAVE A RESPONSIBILITY, BOYS.  DO YOU WANT ME TO START SURFING THE LIFETIME CHANNEL FOR THE WEEKLY VENGEFUL-WOMAN MOVIE RATHER THAN WATCHING FOOTBALL ON SATURDAYS?  IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT, GENTLEMEN????  Thank you.  I will always love you.  Next week, boys, next week.
A quote for today:
"...I am early in my story, but I believe I will stretch out into eternity, and in heaven I will reflect upon these early days, these days when it seemed God was down a dirt road, walking toward me.  Years ago He was a swinging speck in the distance;  now He is close enough I can hear His singing.  Soon I will see the lines on His face" - Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz
A verse for today:
"I have chosen you and have not rejected you.  So do not fear, for I am with you;  do not be dismayed, for I am your God" - Isaiah 41:9b-10
One of my favorite things:
my friend, Brian, who makes me laugh so hard during baseball games that I am doubled over laughing, streaming tears and missing the next play.  Our sons spent a year on different teams after playing together for about five years.  It was as if my year at the ball field was lived in black and white and now suddenly with the boys back on the same team, it is a brand spanking new Technicolor season of baseball again where I have to be careful not to spit out my drink on the person sitting in front of me.  (By the way, so happy to have Mrs. Funnyman Brian's wife back and I'm not just saying that because she is the best Pre-AP History teacher that a freshman named Joe could ever ask for!)
A few plans for the week:
golf, baseball, Back to School night and Community Bible Study
A peek into my day: 

Daybook idea from http://www.thesimplewomansdaybook.blogspot.com/

Just Another Manic Monday (On a Tuesday)

Well, here we are again.  It showed up whether we were ready or not. 

The first day of school. 

Due to the fact that there will be a lovely, quiet, clean house for a number of hours today, I'm feeling a little bit like this:

 

The thing is, people, that my firstborn - my rosy-cheeked baby with springy blond curls who loved to stick his chubby fingers through the holes in The Very Hungry Caterpillar as we read it ten times a day - is going to high school in a few hours.  HIGH.SCHOOL.  I don't see any Eric Carle books on the English reading list.  I.CAN'T.EVEN. 

 

So, I'm also feeling a little bit like this:

 

 

 

And that means that I will likely find myself right smack in the middle of these two emotions for most of the day which means that my dear husband will hightail out of here as soon as possible, lest he spend the day with a wife who will remind him a lot of this guy.

 

 

Y'all, that's just not fair to anyone including those of you who stopped by this here blog today. 

 

So, in light of my Tom-Cruise-circa-2005-state-of-mind, I'm going to stop writing now and pull from last year's first day of school post.  Have a wonderful, manic day, mommas.  We'll make it through.

 

 

From August 27, 2012

It's the first day of school.  I tend to take on multiple personalities on the first day of school, so that what should be a relaxing day sometimes ends up an exhausting day.  Today I've got one boy beginning his last year in middle school, one boy beginning his first year in middle school and one boy venturing off to his third year of elementary school, but it will be his first year without a big brother's hand to hold on the way in the door.  I will drop them off and then make my annual phone call to my mom.  She will answer and we will sing the "Alleluia" chorus and she will know that all of my people are up and out. 

I will look around my empty house and I will find myself in a state of lonely euphoria.  I will sit still and listen to the silence and then it will get too quiet. One minute I will be giddy and singing aloud to myself and the next I will be frantically trying to figure out how I can make time slam on the brakes, back up and let me start this motherhood thing all over again.  One minute I'll grab a newly sharpened #2 pencil to start making a list of all the projects that I'll get done this year, all the while imagining the perfectly organized and clean house I'm about to have.  The next minute I'll decide that I should just get in bed and watch talk shows for awhile or sit on the porch and read a book.  I know that I'll end up driving by the playground to see if I can catch a glimpse of a little red-haired boy.  I know I will picture my newest middle schooler being swallowed up in the hallway by a river of giant adolescents and for a few minutes I will contemplate homeschooling.  I know that I will pray for my children and for their teachers and will try to use some kind of mama-telepathic-mind-power to send calm and confidence and compassion down the street, through the school doors and into the hearts of my boys. 

Then I'll realize that all the regular life stuff still needs to be done and doing all that regular life stuff will focus me for a bit:  laundry, school forms, banking, emails, scheduling, doctor appointment changing, dry cleaning runs, grocery store shopping, ironing, birthday present buying, toilet cleaning, etc.  But, before any of that, I will make sure that I read the following...maybe a few times today...especially when I start looking at the clock and tapping the table waiting to hear the doorknob turn and the backpacks slam to the floor and the voices yell, "Mom, I'm home and I'm starving!"

Entrust your loved ones to Me;  release them into My protective care.  They are much safer with Me than in your clinging hands.  If you let a loved one become an idol in your heart, you endanger that one - as well as yourself.  Remember the extreme measures I used with Abraham and Isaac.  I took Isaac to the very point of death to free Abraham from son-worship.  Both Abraham and Isaac suffered terribly because of the father's undisciplined emotions.  I detest idolatry, even in the form of parental love. 

When you release loved ones to Me, you are free to cling to My hand.  As you entrust others into My care, I am free to shower blessings on them.  My Presence will go with them wherever they go, and I will give them rest.  This same Presence stays with you, as you relax and place your trust in Me.  Watch to see what I will do.
-from Jesus Calling:  Enjoying Peace in His Presence by Sarah Young

Happy School Year, Mommies... whether they are going away to Kindergarten, Middle School, High School, College or even if  they are staying at home with you, let's take a deep breath. Our God holds their hands even when we don't...even when we can't.  That is some really great news for us, so let's just lean into Him today and then go ahead and do a little happy dance.