Dec.
2, 2014
Day
547
I
think I'm fighting some sort of mild germ invasion. I woke up at 5:45 this morning with a
migraine-like headache, although I think it was my sinuses. I didn't think I'd be able to sleep any more,
but after popping a butabital pill I did fall back asleep. I'm kind of sniffly and achy today, too, but
it's not all that bad. The headache
keeps coming back, too.
But,
I've had a couple of good things happen to me already today (it's only early
afternoon). The first was that I
received a call from Learning RX - David is DONE! Oh, my goodness. It feels like a weight has been lifted off my
shoulders to know we are finished running out there twice a week and spending
an hour at home every day working on it and feeling guilty when I can't do
that.
David
wasn't sure what to think. I suspect he
thought he'd be a little smarter at the end of this. But I think he is. No, he's not spouting algebraic algorithms
but he has come a long way. Maybe I just
want to think that since I spent so much money on the program! We do have to go back for him to take an
assessment test to compare beginning and ending progress and then they want me
to come back one more time to meet with me.
I am sure that will be where they put the screws on for me to sign up
and pay for more sessions. I'm not doing
that, though. I can't afford it, money
or time wise.
The
other thing that happened is that my friend, Sarah, who I mentioned in my last
post, sent me an invitation to a Christmas dinner for single moms at Point of
Grace church in Waukee in a couple of weeks.
I'm kind of excited about it. The
event sounds special and it will be so wonderful to be able to meet and talk
with other moms who are trying to figure out how to do this parenting thing
alone, as well.
At
first, I wasn't quite sure how to make it work and I almost turned her down
because that same day a sweet teenager from church is coming over to my house
to wrap Christmas gifts for me. I wasn't sure how to make both work. I thought about it, though, and in the end,
this friend agreed to stay through the evening in order to take some of the
load off David for babysitting. So that
is a real blessing.
I
also just found out that this church offers monthly times where they will watch
the children of single mothers so the moms can go out for up to four hours and get
things done child-free. I'm definitely
going to look into that. Waukee is a bit
of a drive but I don't think it's all that much farther than W. Des Moines and
I am out there all the time, anyway.
What a neat ministry this church has!
Oh
and one more nice thing happened to us over the weekend: I was at Menards with
Will on Friday and when I got home David motioned to me and said, "You
need to come in the living room, Mom."
My first thought was, "What did somebody break now?" To my surprise, there was this huge wrapped
box. Inside the box were 25 wrapped
gifts. David said that someone from
Amanda the Panda had brought them out.
That is the grief services organization we went to group sessions with
last winter. The gifts are all labeled
by person and date, so that someone is opening a gift every day up until
Christmas. I about cried. What thoughtfulness!
The
first gift was for yesterday and it was addressed "Family." Inside, I found a kit for growing an
amaryllis. That makes me a little
nervous because I have a 100% failure rate growing things. But I may try this anyway, especially because
of the note on top of the box:
This amaryllis plant was specially chosen for you for
its symbolism. It has only one stalk
which makes it look very lonely. It
appears to have little or no life to it.
But with care and water, a beautiful flower WILL eventually bloom. May this amaryllis plant be a visible
reminder to you that YOU, TOO, WILL BLOOM AGAIN! Like the amaryllis plant, take good care of
yourself and remember that water, even tears, is important to its growth.
I
sure hope I don't kill it!
***********************************
I
put in four hours up at City Hall today.
I sorted the mail when I got there because it had been a few weeks since
I'd been up there. One letter was
addressed to "City of Swan, care of Sarah Hollywood." That made me laugh. It was a vendor that I'd ordered a classified
ad through - apparently a vendor with rather poor hearing. But "Sarah Hollywood" has a distinctive ring to it, don't you
think?
**********************************
I
received a Christmas card over the weekend addressed to "Paul and Sarah
Heywood." That was upsetting. On the inside, it read, "Merry Christmas
to Paul and family." It was a
hand-written, hand-addressed personal card from one of Paul's siblings. My first thought had been well, maybe she'd
been in a "zone" when addressing cards and wasn't thinking
straight. But Will saw this and said,
"Oh, no, Mom - this was intentional.
She's making sure you know she doesn't consider you the head of this
family." Maybe. I don't know.
I don't want to assume the worst when it could be explained as a
momentary brain lapse. On the other
hand, I'm not even sure why we got a Christmas card, since this particular
individual has been very vitriolic to me.
If it was meant to hurt, then it succeeded. I didn't hang it with my other cards that are
slowly trickling in.
*******************************
Yesterday
Lizzie accompanied me while I shopped.
Her birthday money has been burning a hole in her pocket and she begged
to bring it. I've put her off as long as
I can so I let her. She eventually found
what she wanted at a Frozen toy display at Younkers. I was there because both Will and Sam needed
jeans and I had a $20 off a $50 purchase coupon. Plus, the jeans were already on sale, so I
got a pretty good deal, I thought. The
clerk was very accommodating of Lizzie as she paid for her toy herself. Lizzie had all kinds of questions about the
check-out process and the clerk took her
time answering every one. At one point
Lizzie wanted to know what the credit card machine was for. The clerk explained what it was but then told
Lizzie she should avoid getting a credit card for a long time until she
"had a job." Lizzie replied,
"Well, my mom has a credit card and she doesn't have a job!" Thanks, Lizzie. The clerk said, "Well, your dad probably
has a job, right?" To which Lizzie
replied, "No - he's dead."
That poor clerk! Of course, she
was tripping all over herself apologizing for what she had no way of
knowing. She went on to tell me that she
was a single mom, too. She said hers was
a divorce situation but it happened all at once and she never saw it
coming. It felt kind of nice to have
that camaraderie even with a stranger.
********************************
There's
a commercial for a local window company airing right now. I think it is the dumbest commercial. It features a group of kids playing ball in a
backyard. A ball goes flying upward and
the mom looks hopefully toward the arcing ball and then as the ball stops short
of shattering her very new and nice-looking
window, she looks crestfallen. In
a moment of inspiration, she grabs a decorative ball thingy from inside the
house and pitches it straight through the window on the inside. Then she hollers out, "Oh, Honey - the
window got broken - guess we'll have to call Window World!" Give me a break!
But
I felt so encouraged the other day after this aired. Ellie watched the commerical and then, eyes
wide, she turned to me and exclaimed, "That mom lying! Bad!"
Yes!!! She's understanding! Actually, I'm pretty impressed that she was
able to observe the commercial and gather her own opinion of what was happening
without any of us saying anything. This
is a child who is quick to blame her sister for all her own misdeeds and I
haven't known how much she has understood when I've punished her for
lying. But I've figured I have to start
somewhere.
And
I remember two years ago Lizzie was seeing a therapist who tried to tell me
that children are incapable of differentiating truth from non-truth until at
least 12 years of age! As I recall, that
was our last session with that therapist...
**********************************
So,
this whole Ferguson thing has been on my mind.
I don't have any definite conclusions yet, but it continues to gnaw at
me. We watched the verdict read last
week and I was honestly relieved to see that Officer Wilson was cleared on all
charges. But as the camera panned the
gathered mobs and they began to gather steam in their anger and began shaking
their fists Lizzie burst into tears. She
cried, "Why are all black people so bad?" It hurt my heart. I hastened to assure her that it wasn't a
race problem, but a heart problem. She
agreed and dried her tears.
But
here's the thing: it does seem like a race problem. For the first time, I am more attuned to the
complaints of black people because I now have black children. It bothers me that someday I will probably
have black grandsons who will have to be more careful than their white friends when
going out in public. They must not
appear too threatening. They will be
more likely to be pulled over while driving and suspicion will more quickly
land on them than on their white counterparts.
But is this really racism? Could it be that blacks, as a collective whole, have earned this? After all, as a white woman I do tend to hold my purse tighter to my body and lock more vehicle doors more quickly when seeing a black man nearby. Is that because I don't like black people? No, of course not. Obviously, if I had a problem with black people I would never have adopted black children! Why is it then that I feel more threatened by black people than white people? After all white people are just as capable of committing crimes against me.
It
seems, though, that black community has a embraced a large percentage of
negativism in many different areas. For
decades they've had the highest illigitimacy rate (although all other races are
quickly catching up). Those are the
babies they haven't destroyed at Planned Parenthood's abortion mills. More black babies are murdered by abortion
than other race's. I'm sure Margaret
Sanger smiles to know this. As a result
of many different factors, blacks experience higher poverty rates which in
turn, creates higher crime and drug involvement. As a result of fewer fathers in homes and
churches black youth are lacking needed direction and role models. Two thirds of all children in foster care in America are black. All this, coupled with sins against them in
past generations, creates an anger in the black community that is seen in rap
music (a very angry type of music, if you think about it) and in demonstrations
like we're seeing in Missouri. The cycle perpetuates itself in increasing
degree with each generation.
On
one hand, I get it - well, I think I do, anyway. I'm sure the black people of the world would
scoff that a 43 year old white woman who's never experienced a shred of racism
in her life, would make that claim.
Blacks have historically not been treated well in our country, starting
with, of course, slavery. It took
another hundred years after the Emancipation Proclamation for them to even
begin to have the same opportunities that were given to whites as part of their
birth right. This is why the Civil
Rights movement was so important.
But
Civil Rights happened. Nobody has to
look very far to see successful black people today. They're everywhere - even in the White House. That's how it should be. Not one race is superior to the other. Ever.
It took a long time for our country to figure that out.
However,
there is that anger I was talking about.
Many blacks today seem to have embraced an attitude of entitlement (and
honestly, there are probably just as many whites with the same attitude of
feeling they deserve all kinds of government handouts simply because they
breathe). Because in the past blacks
were abused and treated unfairly they want whites to pay for that today and
they look at us with the same suspicion that I may view a lone black male in a
parking lot.
Here's
the thing: violence solves nothing.
Well, unless there's a war going on.
Ruthless leaders have to be quashed and the only way to do that is to
obliterate them and their territory.
That's a biblical principle and we saw it in both world wars most
recently. But when a group of people
turns to thuggery because they have a "point" to make they are
nullifying their complaint. Nobody is
going to listen to you when you start burning businesses and overturning police
cars and even murdering innocent people because you feel disenfranchised.
Playing
the race card serves no purpose either.
Does racism still happen?
Yes. I will be saddened and
upset, but not be surprised if our own
family encounters it at some point because of the girls. It's an ugly fact that in a fallen world one
group of people is always going to try to retain a false sense of
superiority. It's human nature. Does racism happen like it did it sixty plus
years ago? Not very often. What happened to Michael Brown was not a
matter of the color of skin. It was the
color of his heart and the fact that he was threatening a police officer who
only wanted to return home that night.
Anyway,
this is just a collection of incomplete thoughts rattling around in my
head. It's stuff I have to think about
now because I have created a mixed race family.
I'm still pretty new to all this and my thoughts will probably evolve
further with time. But this I know: I am
teaching my daughters that they are beautiful.
As I tell them, God "colored" them exactly the way He wanted
them to be. We talk about skin color all
the time. That's not my doing. They've made it abundantly clear this is
something they want to discuss. It's
obviously important to them at this juncture in their lives so I oblige. But do you know what we talk about most of
all?
The
color of their hearts. Heaven is going
to be filled with all different shades of people - God's personal
paintbox. But what we will all have in
common is our hearts - once black with sin but washed white by the red of
Jesus' blood. I can talk ad nauseum to
the girls about racism and race relations but it pales to the importance of
what happens inside us.
I
don't have all the answers for what's going on Ferguson. The situation there is being debated upside
down and sideways by all sorts of pundits and people with letters after their
names. None of them agree with
eachother. I'm just a mom. But I do understand something human
hearts. I can't fix Ferguson. But I can point my girls - and my boys - to
the One who can fix their hearts.
********************************
I had to go pick up Ben from
basketball practice. Lizzie was anxious
to be of help in supper preparation so I told her she could help with browning
the burger for tacos and if she wanted, she could put the tater tots on a
greased pan. I got home and discovered
that everything was ready. The tater
tots had been cooked, the meat was chopped into very small pieces and a bowl of
lettuce and cheese was neatly set out on the counter. I praised David for his initiative in getting
supper ready and he told me Lizzie had done it all. I am in shock. She is barely six years old! I am suddenly seeing a much brighter future
waiting for me...at least one where my presence won't be so needed in the
kitchen!
************************************
I walked into Sunday School Sunday
and began to carefully choose where to sit.
It's my second week back to this class and I'm remembering now the
difficulty that singleness presents to choosing seats. I had forgotten for the few months I sat
upstairs in a pew during class. But I
have to be careful. I can't just plop
down beside a friend because her husband might still be coming in and I don't
want to take his spot. If there are
three spots available then I can take one and there will still be room for
another couple who might come in later. But I can't take the middle seat. It has to be on the end so that two seats
will be together. But if there are four
spots then that's really unfair for me to take one because then two couples
can't sit there. I'll either have an
empty chair beside me, which is ok, if a bit lonely, or I'll end up potentially
breaking up another couple that might come in.
Am I thinking too much?
Probably. But that's what I do.
So I went through all this mental
figuring Sunday, finally slumped into my seat, and thought, "I am so tired
of this." I am tired of being
single. I'm tired of feeling like a
third wheel. I'm just tired, period. Then, talk began of the class Christmas party
this coming Saturday, for which I signed up.
I thought to myself, "I can't do this. I'm NOT going to do this!" And so I erased my name from the list. Only, of course, the eraser had dried up and
some bright-brain had attempted to erase ink with it at some point so rather than
quietly erase my name from the list it is now smeared out with a bright blue
smudge that screams, "Sarah changed her mind! She's such an emotional wreck. Why would you want to be friends with
her? She doesn't even have the emotional
maturity to hang out with a few married couples for one evening! No wonder her
husband died on her!" Uh, huh. That's exactly what it says.
Any other time of the year, I'd
probably go. These are my friends. They haven't stopped being my friends because
I'm no longer married. In fact, most of
them have bent over backwards in the last 18 months, trying to soothe my
hurt. But right now, at Christmastime, I
can't do it. I'm trying to convince
myself that's ok.
Instead, I'm taking the Littles to
an Amanda the Panda Christmas party that afternoon. I got the invitation weeks ago and have
waffled continually on whether or not to go.
I responded by email yesterday, at the last possible minute before the
deadline. Now we're committed. No smudging my name out of this one. Then, that evening we're going to meet Will
after work and go see Kirk Cameron's new movie, "Saving
Christmas." And then we're going to
eat at Chik-fil-A which will probably sit like a rock in my stomach because all
fast food stubbornly refuses to digest any more. But that's ok. I'll be with who I want to be instead of
trying to smile with a bunch of married people and pretend that I'm doing ok
and try not to cry in front of them because you're not supposed to be a Debby
Downer at the holidays.
**********************************
So, with the recent occurrence of
Thanksgiving, I've been doing a lot of thinking on the subject of being
thankful. Specifically, I've been
thinking about what it should mean in regards to being thankful for Paul's death. I've listened to a number of people lately,
read some articles all pontificating on the subject. I even came very close to asking my pastor a
couple of weeks ago if I was required to be thankful for Paul's death. But just as I was about to ask, someone else
came up to talk to him and I backed away.
I think I have figured it out,
though, on my own. 1 Thess. 5:18 tells
us "In everything give thanks..."
Some take this to mean that we need to be praising God for every
bothersome, rotten, horrific experience that creeps into our life.
I don't think so. At least, not right away.
We are told to give thanks IN
everything, not necessarily FOR everything.
Semantics? Not necessarily. I believe we are to have a spirit of
thankfulness in every circumstance that we find ourselves. The apostle Paul talked about this very
thing. In regards to Paul's death, I
have found many, many things for which to be thankful from day 1. I'm thankful for many of the circumstances
surrounding the death itself. I'm
thankful for the overabundance of help, care, and concern we still continue to
receive today. I am thankful that we
live in country that has a safety net in place to care for families suddenly
thrust into these kind of circumstances.
I am thankful for the Holy Spirit's comforting presence and for the
wisdom God has continued to endow me with the last 18 months.
But I am not thankful Paul died.
I miss him so much at times my
entire body aches. Although the future
is gradually becoming a bit brighter, I still have a hard time envisioning it
without Paul's presence. I want him
back. I would give anything for the
circumstances of June 6, 2013 to be anything other than what they were.
Last week I wrote about Ben and how
I was realizing that I was thankful that he was handicapped. This is a new realization and if you had
asked me even a year ago if I was thankful that he had been brain injured at
birth I would have probably answered, "no." Sure, I could rattle off a list of things I
was thankful for in the circumstance of what happened in his life, both at the
time of his birth and in the ensuing years.
But being thankful for the hardship and heartache of having a disabled
child? No, thank you!
But yet, somehow, I find that I AM
thankful now for having Ben just the way he is.
Over time, my heart has softened and I have gradually come to realize
the incredible blessing that having a handicapped child has been in my life.
I am thinking that thankfulness is a
process, not a "do or die" now endeavor. All things are passed through God's hands and
for our growth and His glory. But a lot
of those things are incredibly painful and involve loss. It takes time to process. It takes time to develop thankfulness. Feeling that we must be thankful when
we're a big mess of hurt is putting an awful lot of pressure on ourselves. Ecclesiastes 3 tells us that there are
different times in life for different activities.
I suspect that there is a select
time for thankfulness, as well. As long
we don't allow bitterness to spring up in our hearts (bitterness will choke out
the tender plant of thanksgiving) and we continue to look for things we can be
thankful for in any circumstance, we will eventually reach a point where we are
thankful for even the horrible, heartbreaking things.
Perhaps a theologian will tell me
I'm wrong on this. But I don't think
so. There's a whole lot of new knowledge
that comes from the school of disappointment and pain.
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