| I sit between two rug rats (Rob’s term of endearment): a 2 3/4 year-old, and the two-month-old infant, in the back seat of my daughter’s SUV. Two car seats with me in between. I’m holding a bottle for the baby, and searching for the sippy cup for the toddler with my other hand. As we drive, Riley, the two year old, is getting grumpier. She’s mercurial, sometimes fun and sunny, but in typical toddler fashion, when tired, pretty awful. At this moment, she’s awful. Rob is in the front with Stephanie. Did I mention I’m in the back, between two car seats?
We’re trying to change the mood. Pep up the two-year-old. Rob begins to be a two-year-old; now he’s on her level. He’s distracting her, making her smile as he mimics her words, her grumpiness. Slowly she’s coming around. Stephanie hears the change in her voice, and she begins to ask Riley…”did you crack?” She means her smile, which Riley’s trying to hide. She wants to smile, but she wants to maintain her mood…impossible to do both. Before she knows it, she’s charmed right out of herself. Bribery and a little clever humor work wonders. She’s laughing, and peace is restored, at least for the moment. We don’t kid ourselves that it will be lasting. The most we’re hoping for is the garage. Just pull in with no crying, no screaming. Just unload and begin to comfort, change diapers, find snacks, distract. That’s the job of the parent, or parent-stand-in, sometimes known as a grandparent. I watch Stephanie and Matt, trying to hold their own against the needs and demands of the two small people they birthed. They’ll never make it, any more than we did. It’s a losing battle. A small human can overwhelm an adult with hands tied…not even a fair contest! The best you can hope for is survival, and growth. They do grow, and part of the process is they grow on you. As much as survival, the other key is falling in love. You get so caught by the spell these little beings weave that you become a willing prisoner to their smiles, their moods, their needs. And by the time you realize it, their work is done, and you’re hooked, body and soul. Well, maybe it has to be that way. Who would sign up for the craziness if they understood the commitment up front? Stephanie sees me smiling at the scene after dinner, a little crazy, a little chaotic. She says I’m laughing at them, and I say no, just laughing. Not at them…just appreciating the scene, in all its joy, at this very moment in time. This is just the age-old ah-ha that all parents experience. Only now, I’m experiencing from the second row of seats. Let me tell you, the view is pretty good from where I sit. I’m close enough to lean down and be in the game, but just far enough that most of the sticky bits miss me.
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Family
The Dream, reblogged from 4 Little Fergusons
I stumbled across this post today and had to share it. I know the value of being broken. It changed my life, made me grateful in new ways, opened my eyes, brought me joy and peace that I couldn’t understand before I experienced the scars. Read the whole thing. Read the other posts in this section. Even if you can’t fully relate, I hope this will touch you, speak to you, whoever you are, wherever you are. It is hard to see in the moment, but brokeness adds value. Blessings! ~ Sheila
Just tuning in? Please start at the Original Post that begins this Series on “Surviving Infidelity”. It will all make a lot more sense if you do:Shattered Hearts, Broken Promises.
For those of you all caught up, this is post 2 for today, please go back and read the first post, “Hearing from the Lord”.
I’d like to share a dream our mentor had. He has been praying for us faithfully during his late night prayer time. I am telling you, this man has been invaluable to our healing process, sharing things he hears during that time that are straight from the Lord, meant to soothe our broken hearts. Personal things that would only make sense to us. Man, I love that!
This was sent to us via email on July 15th, 5 short days after the secret comes out:
THE DREAM
So, I’m not really a ‘horse’ person, but this dream…
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Scary week
Baby Jack gave us a scare this week. It started out as a cold, nothing serious. Stephanie took him in for a check on Monday and was reassured…nothing to be alarmed about. By Wednesday morning he wasn’t eating and his breathing was labored at times. His noon appointment at the pediatrician’s office turned into an ambulance transfer to the emergency room, then a second ambulance transfer to a neonatal intensive care unit. The diagnosis was pneumonia, caused by RSV.
A few days on oxygen and he’s doing better…eating again, respiratory rate is stable again, and hopefully he’ll be released early next week. Rob and I go down on Tuesday, and I can’t wait to see him. This little guy has stolen my heart…well, he had it from birth. And after this week, I’m ready to see him in person.
The energy of hope
There’s a famous saying: “Where there’s life, there’s hope.” I think you could almost say that without hope, we cease to live. We may be breathing, but we’re not living.
Hope and energy are intertwined. I remember my grandmother, Theola, often saying that she hoped to get to her quilting, or her flowers, or some chore outside. As she grew older, she was often short of energy. But I never knew her to be short of hope. She was a woman of simple goals and great faith. Her world was small by most standards. But she was a well-spring of hope.
I saw the loss of hope in my dad when he began to lose his life to cancer. It wasn’t fast, and it was hard to watch. I would visit and try to encourage him, to infuse him with energy and strength and expectation…to bring back his hope. But I couldn’t do it. My mom couldn’t do it. He had hope for life after death. But he couldn’t hope for this life anymore.
Hope is the positive face of a to-do list. When my dad was dying, he wasn’t making plans for next week. Plans are for the living, and they require expectation of fulfillment, and energy to accomplish. Hope is fuel and food to the spirit.
“It’s the possibility that keeps me going, not the guarantee.”
― Nicholas Sparks
I hope so many things. I have hope for personal dreams, for family, for health, for good things to come. I hope for those I know and love, and hope for those I know only a little, or not at all. Hope is an active and intentional desire. It isn’t neutral. When you express hope, you feel strongly. You believe in what you hope for. Sometimes we wish with all our hearts. We hope to high heaven. We have high hopes. We dream big. Hope sustains us. It is a force of the universe.
Hope is such a little word, and so casually used. I think we forget how important this small four letter word is to life. Hope is looking forward, not behind. Hope is positive, not blind. Hope acknowledges grace and potential. With hope, possibilities are all around. Hope allows the story to write itself, work itself out in good time. Hope reminds me that sometimes things happen
not at once, but at last.
I remember hearing my dad say that he had a hard time going to bed; he always hated to give up the day. He and my mom were often up late, working on projects, pursuing their hopes. She still works late at her desk. I’m more of a morning person. But whichever end of the day you find inspiring, the thing nudging you out of bed or keeping you up past your bedtime…it may look like work. But I believe it’s really hope, disguised in everyday garb. Hope keeps us going, whispers that it will be worth it…plants a seed-thought of what’s next.
“Everything that is done in this world is done by hope.”
― Martin Luther
Home again, home again!
I blew in this morning in a gale. My flight was delayed, the wind and rain were ferocious, and I felt like I was wet through by the time I got unloaded. After a week in baby-land, it’s back to reality, work, and home…home being Rob, not a geographic location.
I talked to Stephanie tonight, and heard the sounds of two-week-old baby Jack sleeping near the phone…the little sighs and noises…I could feel his tiny body stretch and wiggle, just like I have for the past week. I miss him already. I miss his newborn softness, his fresh-from-heaven look. I miss his scent.
But the reality is, I’m not cut out to do the solo act. I had a divided heart last week…part of me glad to be with this new little being, and part of me sad to have left Rob behind working (work camp, we call it). Clinics do not shut down because a new baby arrives.
We’ll be down again the end of this month, and I’m looking forward to that. I’m really looking forward to that. We’ll go together, and we’ll experience together. And because we’ll be together, even though we’ll be far from our address in SE Alaska, I’ll be home. Home is where the heart is, and I’ll admit, pieces of mine are somewhat scattered through time zones and states. But the biggest piece of it is with Rob. Just as it should be. It is good to be home.
The Land of Nod
Baby-land…who can resist the magic of these little beings? Motherhood makes childhood sacred, forevermore. First with my own, and then with the children of siblings and now with these little grands…all these babies attached to my heart…or maybe I’m attached to theirs?…pure joy!
Baby Jack, and Big Sis Riley…
The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new. ~ Rajneesh
Making the decision to have a child – it’s momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. ~ Elizabeth Stone
OOT Christmas
This year, like last year, we will be out-of-town (OOT – love that acronym!) for Christmas. Last year we were in Seattle, and we were with our kids. This year promises to be a little less fun…or maybe it will be more fun, you never know. But I know I’ll miss our family.
Rob is covering call for the small island clinic where he sometimes works. They are short-staffed, so we’re going over on the Sunday ferry, and we’ll set up camp in the little apartment we use when we’re working there. I’ve collected a stash of Christmasy things to cozy us up…some favorite movies, special Christmas foods, a few gifts, all wrapped and ready for the big day. But the best part is: Rob and I will be together. We’ve spent enough time apart, and although we still have to do that sometimes…I think we should never again spend a holiday apart.
Being OOT for Christmas means we’ve minimized some things at the house…simple decorations, no tree, and some of our traditions are getting a rest this year. It’s a busy weekend…we have three social events on Saturday, and then we leave Sunday morning. But somehow this streamlined holiday seems festive even without all the usual trimmings. Maybe it’s because we have a precious new grandson, born this week. Or maybe it’s the joy and hope I hear in our son’s voice…after a difficult year and hard decisions in his life, he’s finding his way, and his spirit, again. Maybe it’s because I’m thankful that our family, by and large, is well. Not perfectly healthy, and not without struggles; there are challenges. But overall, well. My mom misses my dad, but she finds happiness in her mission and her loved ones. My husband is weary, but he continues to find a way to give to the people in his life who need him, as a physician and as a person. I see updates from family on Facebook, and although social media gets its fair share of criticism, I’m thankful to be a little better connected to dear ones who are far away. I’m thankful for faithful friends and uplifting words that I read every day.
It is Christmas in the heart that puts Christmas in the air.”
~ W. T. Ellis
Maybe I am finding more of the spirit of the holiday this year because there is less of the bustle. I think I’ve written three cards…and that will probably be my final tally. I used to send out lots of cards…boxes and boxes. Lights were everywhere some years…garland…some years we’ve done neighborhood parties, or hosted family. I love all that…every bit of it! But in a season without quite so much to-do, I can admit that sometimes at the end of it, I was exhausted, and just ready for a long winter’s nap.
I’m sure those times will come again. We’ll have years that it’s our turn to have our kids visit, and years that every light I can find is on display. I’ll have a fresh tree and put up all my favorite ornaments, and use my Christmas china, and make all the favorite foods. But not this year. This year it will be the two of us, and a few candles, and simple food. This year we’ll be quiet, and contented to just be.
In case you’re still looking for gifts, here is a short list of suggestions:
Christmas gift suggestions: To your enemy, forgiveness. To an opponent, tolerance. To a friend, your heart. To a customer, service. To all, charity. To every child, a good example. To yourself, respect.”
~ Oren Arnold
Merry Christmas to all. Whatever your season has brought…simple, or a year with bells on, may it be rich with the real joys of life, and may you say to those you love: “This is the good stuff!”
Jackson Robert Kessler: Welcome to the World!
This beautiful little boy arrived last night. He’s a wee bit early…wasn’t scheduled to be here until mid-January. But maybe he just didn’t want to miss out on the Christmas festivities. And at 7 lbs, 9 0z, and 20 inches, maybe he didn’t need to wait any longer!
Jack joins big sister Riley, and proud parents Stephanie and Matt. What a joy, and a wonderful affirmation that life is amazing!
And now I am “Gram” to two! Thank you, Stephanie, for this precious gift to all of us.
Christmas music fills the air
It’s that time of year again. Unlike the decorations that deck the malls, I save my Christmas music until December. Well, sometimes I sneak a few favorites after Thanksgiving. But the real celebration begins with December. I trot them all out…carols, the old traditional standbys…Bing Crosby and Mannheim Steamroller, Frank Sinatra and Christmas choirs, Celtic Woman. I love it all, from instrumentals to old folk tunes to soaring choral arrangements. For this month, my Pandora and Spotify stations are set to sentimental.
Sentimental is where my heart is…I have some old Disney Christmas CDs that take me to a time in my life when I had little kids, and the magic of making Christmas cookies and wrapping presents was a family event. Every step in the season was momentous…picking out a tree, choosing the special ornaments for the year, shopping and decorating, and the great light debate..colored or white…the favorite Christmas movies and holiday plays…each event had it’s place on the calendar. And the smells! The smell of the tree, fresh from the cold and filling the house with the fragrance of forest…it was better than baking cookies. To each his own, but if I can’t have a real tree…like this year, when we’re going to be out of town for Christmas…I don’t have anything. I can’t quite make the switch. I decorate with wreaths, and other holiday trimmings, but no fresh tree…no tree.
I listen to the soundtrack from A Charlie Brown Christmas and I’m transported. What is this time warp I’m caught in? My children have moved on, and I’m still here…here in December, loving the little trips back in time; they come in the flash of an instant, sometimes triggered by the strangest things…little, insignificant glimpses that take me, by magic, to another decade…literally to another century. The 90s were golden with the two little kids who filled my life.
Music is a touchstone to memory, and my memories are good.
I remember reading the classics to my children, books like The Polar Express, and A Christmas Carol, and even now, years later, I’m still caught by the stories, charmed and touched by the faith of childhood. That’s the real spirit of the season that flavors everything else…faith…accented by the sounds of beloved and familiar. And for a few weeks every December, I live and re-live sweet moments from the past, and precious times of the present. This month, more than any other, blends the years and melts my heart. A little sprinkling of snow, frosty temps…all good.
Take back your life
A friend of mine is in trouble. Her marriage is in ruins, and she is in the midst of a dysfunctional divorce process. She’s uprooted, disheartened, lost. And I can only begin to imagine the effort it costs her to get out of bed each day and get her kids going.
I’m sad for her, and I’m at a loss. This has been going on for almost two years, and the path seems to be a downward spiral. She can’t seem to break free, to reset.
I know something about sadness, and life not working out the way I thought it would. I don’t have visible tragedy in my life; I have the drip, drip, drip of missed opportunities, lost dreams, or no dream at all…just a kind of wandering in the wilderness, wondering, even as the externals of life look pretty and orderly: “is this all there is?”
My husband and I have had it all, and at times we’ve known that, and celebrated it. And we’ve had it all, and at times, thrown it away with both hands…couldn’t grasp the goodness that was in front of us for looking at what was wrong. That’s an easy trap to fall into, one that I think most people are guilty of sliding into on a regular basis. Isn’t that what movies like “It’s a Wonderful Life” are all about? The reminder that with all the negatives, life is still pretty sweet…well, we know it. But how hard it is to live that reality day by day! No matter how often I re-learn that lesson, I find it waiting around the corner again. And each time, I have to internalize it like it’s new knowledge. Some things take an eternity, apparently, to really sink in.
I don’t think I’m alone in this. I think this is one of the most common failings of modern life, modern Americans. Maybe people in general… I don’t know…is this just a common human trait?
This morning I was thinking about my friend. She doesn’t have a job, because bringing in her own income impacts the settlement she is able to get from the divorce. She’s depressed, understandably so. She’s lost in regret for the past, and regret for the future. She’s mourning the loss of life as she knew it, and life as her kids knew it.
No one can change any of that, and what’s done is done. No going back. But I want to tell her there is still an option to go forward. I’m not sure she can hear this. But this is what I want to say to her:
Get up! I know you’ve been paralyzed by everything that’s happened. But you can’t live in that state. You have to begin. Begin today, this morning. Set the smallest of goals, and mark it off your list. Then set another. Keep setting them until you’re really moving. It doesn’t matter what the goal is. What matters is that you see what you do as accomplishment, movement, and an act of will…your will. Energy and accomplishment produce more energy and accomplishment.
Look for a job. I know that may be against the advice of attorneys, but having your own income is liberating, and will give you renewed self respect. What if you eventually don’t need alimony? What if you could stand on your own? How sweet that would be! Going back to the work force when you’ve been a stay-at-home-mom for many years is challenging and intimidating…and invigorating. It will bring new people, new experiences, new thoughts to your life. It will broaden your horizons. It will give you a goal, and foster ambition. And it will give you money in your account.
Start a gratitude journal. This may seem like salt in the wound, to even suggest this. But I believe so strongly in the power of attitude and the healing that a thankful heart can experience…I don’t think a wounded soul can move forward without this step. Yes, life is unfair. Yes, life is hard. But we don’t complain when we are “unfairly” gifted. We just accept it as a natural thing, that we should be healthy, have food, have a roof, have healthy kids. Open your eyes, open your heart!
Finally…and again, this may seem like salt in the wound…I would suggest connecting with a women’s shelter…volunteer for an hour or two, or more, each week. This is not about building one person up by looking down on the misfortune of others…this is about recognizing that we all have something to give, even when it seems we have very little. And giving is the best cure for our own heartaches. Yes, there is a need to receive, and to cocoon, and to lick our own wounds. But that works better when we’re also giving, reaching out, making ourselves go beyond the comfort zone.
My route to work in Ketchikan takes me past a women’s safe house. When I’m distressed, I often think about the women who seek haven there. My problems become much more manageable when I recognize: no one beat me up, or threatened my kids, or blew money for this month’s bills. Does that mean I don’t have legitimate issues? No. And certainly my friend has sorrows that are real, and wounds that will take years to heal. But I’m reminded that things could be worse. You have to begin somewhere. I choose to begin with acknowledging: even when I’m struggling, I have people in my life, things in my life, that bless me. I have a place to start. And so does she…she just can’t see it yet.
I want to infuse my friend with determination, and to say: don’t let this sorrow, the end of your marriage, and the way you’ve been treated, don’t let it rob you of what you can do for yourself, for your children. Starting over is hard, and I understand the paralysis that comes with depression. So get help for depression if you need that. But act! Move! Get up! Do it for your kids, if not for yourself. One of these days, you’ll realize you are doing it for yourself as well, and you’ll all benefit in the end.
Even as I write this, there’s a little voice inside my head that says it’s never as easy as it reads. No. But what’s the alternative? She’s already lost two years of her life, and her kids’ lives, to turmoil and anger and sadness. How much more will she give? Eventually, it is counterproductive to mourn. It becomes a way of life; but not a healthy way to live. I’ve learned this for myself, and I know how hard it is to make that shift in thinking. I’ve done it. My circumstances were different, but in their own way, no less debilitating. But I don’t know how to jump start someone else. Sending her a to-do list, or a book to read, or listening to her, or suggesting that she see a doctor and go on anti-depressants…are these just band aids? I can’t put my hands around what she most needs. I’m at a loss for her. I keep coming back to the same thing. She has to reach down inside herself and want to take her life back. She has to want control enough that she pushes through the barriers. She has to want it. Others around her have wanted it for her. We’ve been sad, and seen the legitimate distress of her life. But now it’s down to her. Really, rock bottom, down to her will, and her strength.
I choose to live by choice, not by chance; to make changes, not excuses; to be motivated, not manipulated; to be useful, not used; to excel, not compete. I choose self-esteem, not self-pity. I choose to listen to my inner voice, not the random opinion of others.










