lifting crosses

I wished him a Merry Christmas and encouraging words of "hang in there".... because I knew what was in store for him. This was his first Christmas alone. Maybe not alone alone, but single alone.
I read a portion of the message he wrote back ...."we all have crosses to bear..."


We all have crosses to bear.


This simple statement, heard many a time, has struck a nerve, in me. My mind keeps wandering back to his statement. I can only assume what he meant by this statement.He knew that this was going to be a difficult holiday.  I think he meant to say, that he understands he is not alone. He is well aware that other people have their own hardships and pain.
He is right, of course.


We can only look around the corner, or at the next table, or across a room and find someone who has their own story.
Trouble is, sometimes we keep those stories so deep down inside of us that at times they become unbearable.


I think that is why his words kept popping into my head. We all have crosses to bear.
I reflected on my own personal "crosses" right now.
That little cross called insecurity seems to rise up at times and crash down over me like a tidal wave.
There are times when the financial cross seems to want to beat me into the ground.
Decision making crosses overwhelm me at times.
And a cross called loneliness stands in front of me and overshadows my happy life once in awhile.


Are these crosses of mine unbearable?
No, they are not. I have "mini moments" when I feel myself sinking to the bottom of an ocean with no lifeline to grab. "Help!" I yell silently! "Somebody save me!" (and amazingly, someone usually does rescue me!)
Are they hard at times? Difficult to endure?
Yes, absolutely.There are days when my brain just doesn't want to conceive another way to make ends meet this month. There are times when I throw my hands in the air and swear at the ladder that just pulled the bottom rung out beneath my feet. Okay..... I missed the last step.
Does it help to know that I am not alone?
Maybe not at the time I lay sprawled out across the floor with my foot entangled in the ladder or even when I assess the huge bruise on my leg.
But yes, it sure does help to know that others understand. And it helps to know that a person is not alone.


When I think of a cross, I think of a heavy burdensome load weighing us down. That analogy held true for part of the trip. But then the cross is transformed. It is changed into a symbol of redemption and life change.
I guess we need to remember that what weighs us down can also lift us up.


Sure, the holidays are tough on everyone involved in an uprooted family.
I took a hard look at my "crosses" and decided to find solutions this year to not let them weigh me down.

Changes in my life had altered the traditions our family had always adhered to. This is a hard thing. I had let some things just go by the wayside, but in the back of my mind, I really didn't want to let go of them. One of those things was "Tradition."

Tradition. It was always called this in our family. I made homemade cinnamon rolls aka"Tradition" for Christmas morning. I have decided ...no, refused to let go of this pleasure of mine. I love to bake. I make my cinnamon rolls and send home a plate to the married children on Christmas Eve to take home for their Christmas morning breakfast.

They seem satisfied. My heart was lifted at their smiles when they picked up their plate of cinnamon rolls. And I am sattisfied too. Not because the tradition of "Tradition" has changed, but because I have allowed transformation to take place.
I think it is the only way we can bear our crosses.

For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

2 Corinthians 12:10

dinner for one

Grocery Shopping has always been my least favorite chore.
I hate it even more now.
I avoid it like the plague.
I am usually guilt ed into a grocery store trip after my daughter tugs open the door to my refrigerator , bends over, and peers in with the look of a scowl upon her face. This scowl usually is followed by, "Really mom? part of a stick of butter, three cartons of yogurt, an apple, a bottle of beer, three eggs, a piece of cheese, and a quart of milk that expired last week!"
 I hate it when she checks the expiration dates.

It's not just me though. Single men have similar food and mealtime woes too. One recently explained how hard it was for him to try to make a balanced meal for his family on the days he has custody of his children. He was going home after a day's work on a physical job, tired, picking up the kids, running them to various ball practices, helping with homework, and fitting in dinner somehow. I know where his frustration is though, because he is doing what typically is the woman's end of the deal. I think I touched on this in a previous blog ... my frustration being tossed into the world of man jobs.

The other man I talked with said he was a big fan of cereal. Well, maybe not a fan, but it was a standard in his diet now. Repetition in our diets seemed to be the theme of the day.... or week.
After years of planning and preparing meals for three children and a spouse, plus the "extra kids" that always seemed to be at our house, cooking for just me is hard to do. Portion downsizing has not entered my vocabulary yet. No matter how hard I try, even succeed, in making a smaller sized meal, I still end up with meatloaf for four days. Or the soup that never ends.

More depressing than getting motivated to fix the meal is the actual sitting down to the table. I literally have to force myself NOT to stand at the counter and eat. If I stand, I realize later that I have "wolfed" down the food. Not a good habit. Anyone in my shoes or similar ones, understands the unfunness of dinner for one. Yes, I know unfunness is not a real word, but it is a real emotion, so I am leaving it in my story.

There are four chairs around my table. Three are most often empty. I have strategically placed a collage type frame of pictures in my dining nook and often glance up at it while I eat my meal. The frame is large and holds about 20 photographs. I have put in it colorful pictures of my children at various ages. They are young adults now. It has pictures from memorable good times that are a part of my past. Some were shot on vacations. Others are holiday pictures. A few tell the story of some milestone, like a birthday or a wedding. These photographs are dear to me.

I have decided to change them out though recently. You see, the frame was a gift to me as a "housewarming" when I first moved out on my own. I did not want to lose these memories and need to make sure they remained a joyous part of my past. I purposely chose these particular colorful photographs to brighten my day. I hung it there to make my meal time less unfun.

It hasn't worked.
Oh, the pictures bring a smile to my face.
Always. The hairstyles and 80's fashions alone bring a smile to my face.
 But, there is something about revisiting the past while sitting alone that just doesn't jive.

Thus, I have decided to change out the past for the present. I am gathering up black and white photographs that have been taken these past two years. They are the reality, the black and white of my life today. They are also my ebony and ivory, the richness in my everyday existence.  The photographs I choose will be of my present. They will be snapshots of my joys, my loves, and my hopes.

There is a possibility that my mealtime might still remain unfun. I have to give it a try though. I am not letting go of my past, those colorful moments captured in the older photographs remain a huge part of me and who I am. 
I am hopeful that being surrounded with the richness of my life now at mealtime will ignite within me a feeling of peace and gratitude.

I probably won't ever enjoy grocery shopping.
I may still have expired milk in my refrigerator with lots of empty shelf space.

But maybe my dinner for one will be a reminder of how richly blessed I am in .....today


Proverbs 16:9
The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.

The Comfort Zone

^{Psalm 23:4}  Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me, your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

Hanging on the back wall of the toy store was the softest snuggle pet. My grandson was coming into this world in the next few weeks. I reached up and touched the little brown and tan pony. He was so soft and cuddly. His body was not really a body of a horse but a miniature blanket to be held in a child's hand. A cream colored satin ribbon was the border of the blanket part. My fingers ran across the cool fabric. I closed my eyes as I squeezed the soft velvety fabric and imagined little Brody toddling through the house with his snugly pony in tow. I could see him curled up in his bed with the pony tucked in tight underneath his chin. Forget Dave Ramsey! This was a "need" purchase! Everyone needs their own piece of comfort to cling onto.

Rewind a few years ago and there I was curled up in my bed. My daughter and her friend walked into the house bearing gifts after a girl's day of shopping. They had brought me comfort.
Sometimes we just need pampered. I was feeling pretty alone. My husband had moved out. He had filed for divorce. I was looking at an overwhelming amount of hurdles to jump. I wasn't feeling up to "life". I was in serious need of comfort.

They brought me lavender lotion. I love lavender. It is such a soothing and calming aroma. It relaxes me.
They brought me Godiva Chocolates. True comfort food. True bliss.
And they brought me the softest ivory full length robe. I had never had a robe so luxurious.  I closed my eyes and ran my fingers across the ribbed cloth, feeling the ridges of soft, lush fabric. I squeezed it between my fingers and pulled it up to my chin. There isn't a day now that I don't squeeze it around my neck after I put it on. It is soft. It is warm. But, it is also comforting.
The robe was intended as a luxury gift.
It is indeed that.
Maybe they didn't even realize, but they had brought me comfort to cling onto.

We all need it.
Comfort.
The dictionary says that comfort means to soothe in a time of affliction or stress. There isn't a time in our life that we haven't needed soothing. As a child, we wanted comfort as our mothers applied a band aid to that invisible scratch. A trip to the Dairy Queen always seemed to dispel that Little League game loss, and tell me a woman whose face doesn't light up when she receives that unexpected bouquet of flowers? (just because she has had a bad week)

Writing this blog about going through a divorce has been a comfort to me. I believe in the pay it forward philosophy.
I have had some amazing feedback in messages from women and men who have been through a similar experience. I have had children of divorced parents thank me for making them aware of how their parent felt. Some people have told me they have cried through my writings. Some have found the bits of humor I sometimes add in to a story.

I like to think that somehow these writings are giving comfort.
Like the lavender lotion, they soothe.
Like the chocolates, they satisfy.
And like the plush robe, they envelope the heart and soul and comfort.

In Five Easy Payments

I sat down across from him in the school cafeteria.
 He was the cutest little round faced, blonde boy. He was five years old and a talker to be sure. He was chatting away and told me his birthday was coming up. Without me even asking, he went on to explain that he was going to get the Rocket Fishing Rod II for his birthday gift. After a detailed explaination on how the Rocket Fishing Rod II works, he knew he was getting this particular gift because his dad had ordered it for him. Then he announced boldly, "only $34.95 in five easy payments!"

Five easy payments, huh?

There are five steps in the Grief Process. Easy? I think not.


Step one: Denial
I can remember literally shaking my head in disbelief when the words were first spoken.
I want a divorce. I didn't really hear him say that, did I? He must mean something else. Something is wrong. It took the words from my daughter , up in my face, in my business, no less, that made me snap out of step one. I thank her for that moment of revelation too.

Step two: Anger
My friends hold the opinion that  I have not experienced this step as I perhaps should have. My pillow might think otherwise. Sometimes you just need to punch something. This stage can be more detrimental to yourself though, I believe. The only thing that a grudge holds is you. Still, I don't think it can be altogether avoided.

Step three: Bargaining
Some people are just naturals at getting a good deal. They find the $100 jackets marked down to $5, and they  are the ones who always have the right coupon, unexpired, in their possession. Let me say for the record, there are no bargains in a divorce. There is no good deal. We try though, with attempts at counseling, let's stick it out until....., or maybe if we had a vacation together, just the two of us...
I wish this step of grievance was not in the mix. Begging is so unflattering and causes you regrets later on.

Step four: Depression
Big step. Unavoidable, I am afraid. You find yourself deep into a pit. And why not? Your entire life plan just got shredded. I didn't think I could be so tired. Images of my grown children stepping into my bedroom as I lay buried in the covers, "are you all right mom?".....
There were times I wanted to scream back, (instead of the calm, "sure, I am fine, I am just tired"), Hell no, I am not fine! I just lost my best friend, my husband, my home, my family, my church, our friends, our holiday traditions, me self esteem!.....
Everyone has to find their own way to climb past step four. The main thing is, climb past it.

Step five: Acceptance
This is the best step of all. The one where you realize you are really going to get that Rocket Fishing Rod II. The five easy steps payment part was a lie.  There are five steps. Just not easy steps.
Right now, I am learning to cast with my new rod. I toss out the line to new friends. I have opened myself up to new possibilities and new adventures.
After all, there are other fish in the sea....
and there is a big ocean out there to discover.

Psalm 71:20 - Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth you will again bring me up.

Beloved

I try to take my dog, Doc, on a walk every day. He counts on it. Today on our walk, we walked through the cemetery in town. I located the gravesites of family and friends. There are a lot of familiar names etched in stone. Some of these names I see on our daily walks; names of streets, historical markers, or engraved on buildings. Payne, Herriott, Adams, Vawter, and Province. These names quickly brought to mind those places I walk past daily in my hometown.

Gravestones are a curious thing. I wondered why some people erected massive pillars with their family name boldly engraved for all to see? Some stones were so old and the etching so crude, it was hard to decipher what was written there. There were stones that were heart shaped, some with symbols attached, some with photographs, and too many with crosses to symbolize their sacrifice to our country.

And then I saw an engraving that tore into my soul.

Beloved wife....
Tears stung my eyes as I realized the probablity of any stone being erected with my name and Beloved wife written underneath. It wasn't the idea of a stone being placed with my name on it at all. I would prefer to be cremated. The hurt, the wound, was that I was no longer anyone's beloved wife. When does this void, this huge gaping hole ever get filled in, I wondered? This wasn't what I signed up for when I said "till death do us part."

I have changed in many ways because of my divorce. I  am not the same person I was before and I can say that I am thankful for that change. Sometimes things happen in our lives that we do not understand and are out of our control. I believe I had a choice in my future. I could leave that gap open for everyone to see. I could let it fill up with anger, bitterness, and resentment or I could move on. I have chosen the path to move on.

The cemetery has a creek that runs along beside it's edge. As I exited the path and moved up onto the street, Doc and I crossed across the top of the creek. I stopped over the bridge and glanced back at the cemetery. Stones dotted the landscape before me. They all had a story to tell. So do I.

I looked down at the stream flowing beneath me and realized there was a message here. Life moves on. There are big and small holes in the creek bed. There are probably places where the sand shifts beneath. There are rocks to stumble over. The water keeps flowing though. And so do I.

I walked on, a smile on my face, and a lifted spirit.
I am beloved.
I am beloved by my family. I am beloved by my friends. I am even beloved by my dog.
But most importantly, I am beloved by my God.

Check Yes or No

On the top right corner of my Health Benefits Enrollment was a little box. There were four choices: single, married, divorced, or widowed.
I don't like to compare myself to a dog, but I could feel the hairs bristle on the back of my neck as I re-read the choices.
I can understand the need to know if a person is single or married when it comes to coverage of the policy.
What I wanted an answer to, was why they needed to know if a person, that person being ME, was divorced or widowed? How did this information change how the policy covered me?
THAT is what I wanted to know.

I left it blank for a couple of days.
I contacted our benefits representative to clarify the difference between the choices. She didn't know. They had taken that box off of another application and "just used it", she said. Just pick one.

I won't even begin to understand the emotions on checking "widowed." That is a whole other post that needs to be written by someone else. You know the old saying, "until you walk a mile in another one's moccassins....."

However, being tagged with a label of divorced irritated me. I felt like I had stepped back into a 1950's movie....Can't you just see the few people all huddled up beside the water cooler?  "Shhhh! She is,.... you know,.... divorced." (Eyebrows raise)
Granted, time has changed that old stigma, and things are better.
I don't remember ever feeling that I judged someone because they were divorced, however, once you are in that position yourself, your guard goes up. It feels as if you are being judged.

I feel like I have been judged in social settings, you know, the fifth wheel syndrome....
I have seen it portrayed throughout the media, the cougar tag, the divorcee'.....
I have unfortunately, felt it in churches....either the "singles" group, or "where do we put her question"....
I have seen it in the top right corner of a health benefits form. (bristle, bristle)

I acknowledge that part of these feelings are probably because this station in life is still fresh and new. I am discovering that some people do judge you and label you divorced. I am also learning that a lot of people understand the circumstances and accept me as single. I like that.

For the record, I checked the "single" box.
It was my choice. I picked one.  

Luke 5:16 “..but Jesus often slipped away to be alone so he could pray.” (NCV)

Third Day-I Will Always Be True

The Love Dare Trailer

Truth and Dare

My daughter was engaged to be married. This news can be as exciting for the mother of the bride as it is the bride herself. Truth be known, there probably isn't a mom in the world, that doesn't dream of her own daughter's wedding day. The dress selection alone is the ultimate "mom" experience. What mother doesn't tear up as she sees her very own little girl step out of the dressing room bathed in white satin and lace? It's as if her little ballerina is twirling in a drapery of white with a gleam in her eye that asks, "Am I as beautiful as I feel?"

Planning a wedding involves more than choosing the perfect gown. It entails more than cake selection, color schemes, and catering choices. Planning a wedding encompasses a word that had become difficult for me the past few months.
Hope.
Katie and Brad's wedding came just three short months after my own divorce became final. Wedding vows, promises of a future as a couple, dreams of a lifelong commitment might have been a bitter pill for me to swallow. Something happened early on in their wedding plans that fortunately put peace, and hope, in my heart.

Brad wanted to have a song played at the wedding by the Contemporary Christian band, Third Day. His choice of a song was titled, "I will always be true."
I owned the Revelation Cd, and knew this song well. In fact, this particular Cd had been a source of encouragement for me in tough times. When Brad chose this song though, I knew for certain that this was going to be a wonderful marriage and they were headed in the right direction because they had placed God into their lives and marriage.

This past summer, Katie's twin brother, Brett married a lovely young lady named Michelle. She graciously included me in many of the wedding preparations. Both of these weddings were beautiful events, tailored to each couple's personalities,

Brett and Michelle's ceremony stressed the amazing fact that they had all eight grandparents alive and in attendance and each couple boasted fifty plus years of marriage! The pledge they made to one another was strong in their commitment to have a lasting marriage. They too, have placed God in their marriage.

A part of me was vividly aware of the truth spoken at both ceremonies. My intent was never to have my own marriage end. I believed in commitment and as I watched each couple say their vows to one another, I was renewed in hope.

I can tell you this, I had a wonderful time at both the weddings and the receptions. It is such a blessing to see your own children so happy. It is a great feeling to know that your children have chosen a wonderful person to share their life with.
It was their special day and I soaked it all up!

Katie and Brad, and Brett and Michelle are participating in The Love Dare.
From what I have heard about this challenge, it is something all couples, young and old, should read and participate in.

I don't know what my future holds. I can't even think that far ahead. I have been learning a lot of lessons. I hope someday God sends me a special person. Right now, I am content to discover more about who I am. Besides, I have been busy planning and rejoicing at weddings these past two years!

"...For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord,
"Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future..."

Jeremiah 29:11

Tenth Avenue North - Beloved (Original Version)

Dog Tired

I started this blog because I had hoped to share some of my own feelings and experiences in the hopes that others would not feel the way I did during divorce. If you were like me, you were surrounded by loving and supportive family and friends. Still, they could not truly know the pain and helplessness I felt at times. This post is a look back on one particular time of feeling helpless. I am sure this is not unique to just women. I am betting that some men open a cookbook for the first time post divorce, and don't have a clue how to zest a lemon, what Tbsp. stands for, and can't imagine how you fold together the ingredients!

Dog-tired.
Dog-tired is an idiom for exhausted. I believe it to be a combination of physical and mental exhaustion.
My story begins really before my divorce was final. I had moved to the opposite side of the county for a two month house sitting opportunity. I took my white boxer, Doc, with me. He was to become quick buddies with Lida, a white labradoodle that resided at the home I was watching.

The house sat off from the road and was a three story structure I soon dubbed my sanctuary. Behind the house was a winding creek that could be watched from the expanse of deck and patio that stretched the length of the home. Beside the house was a water garden with a rippling stream and a large comfortable chair to watch the sunset over the farm fields nearby. The solitude this place brought was exactly what I needed. I could come home from work, enjoy dinner on the patio, read, pray, take care of the flowers, or walk the long drive with the dogs tagging along beside me. More often than not, we all found ourselves stretched out in the wicker furniture along the back on Sunday afternoons, dog-tired, and taking a nap.

On this particular hot Sunday afternoon, I was also watching Stanton, my daughter's puggle. All three dogs had played in and out of the creek, and were content to nap on the straw mats while I nodded off to sleep myself.
Suddenly, all three dogs shot "like a bat out of hell " towards the other end of the house. I always wondered what "a bat out of hell" meant. Now, I knew.
I jumped up to find the three dogs had a groundhog corned up against the house. All three dogs were growling, barking, and lunging towards the hissing groundhog.
It has to be sick, perhaps rabid, I thought. Why else would it be out in the day up near the house?
I was stricken with fear. What should I do?  This was a man's job! How am I supposed to handle this? This is so unfair!

I did what every woman would do in this situation. I started to cry and dial every man in my cell phone memory! Can you believe the only one who answered was out of town? I hung up on him.
I remembered vaguely the homeowner mentioning a gun..... somewhere. Trouble was, I had no clue as how to load it! Or, for that matter, where the ammunition was even at!About the time panic was setting in full force, Doc, lunged at the groundhog, clamped his jaws on it and shook it until it died.

Let me tell you, there is a fine line between relief and terror level two.
Imagine each dog had to take turns running through the yard with this "thing" hanging limply from it's jaws. We can't just let it hang there, oh no, we have to fling it.... and they wanted to show it to me!

It might have been the screaming, or maybe it was the hysterical shrieking that made the dogs drop it.
I don't know.
I do know that my gag reflex was pushed to it's limits as I somehow managed to fling it into the creek, hoping it would just glide on down the river.....
no luck.
Stanton retrieved it and bless his little heart, he brought it right back up on the porch!
So, I buried it.
They unburied it.

Dusk was settling in by the time I had it bucketed. I had three dogs covered in blood and dirt and little pieces of.....(shudder), there was that gag reflex again....
I was dog-tired from cleaning up this mess.
Dog-tired from giving three dogs a bath.
Dog-tired from hauling the critter a few miles away in the car and dumping it in the ditch.

There have been other man jobs I have had to figure out. Sometimes, I feel like Hercules when I put together a table and bar stools on my own. Other times, I have felt overwhelmed at chores like cleaning out gutters, removing a tick from the dog, or fixing a loose door knob.
These were things that I didn't ever worry about before. That was someone else's jobs. Now suddenly, every job is my job. All by myself to figure out to do or find someone to help me do it. Jobs that make you dog-tired.

There really isn't a profound lesson here. Sometimes it is okay to be exhausted.
With exhaustion, comes rest.
With rest, comes restoration.
And until the next man job that comes along, I am restored.


"He restores my soul..." Psalms 23:3

Grounded for life

Your words have supported those who stumbled; you have strengthened faltering knees.  - Job 4:4                  

It was an uncomfortable situation. As I exited through the back door, my foot slipped, and I found myself hit

the concrete hard. And I mean hard. Face first. I looked up to the worried face of my eldest son. Before he could even reach down to help, sheer panic hit as my mind screamed inside my head. "Get up! Don't let him see you down!"

I somehow moved upward, faster than the soon to be bruised 53 year old body really wanted to in fact. As we pulled out of the driveway, I made a quick assessment of the damages. Scraped arm, skinned knuckles, and what was sure to become a very sore and bruised body. My assessment later proved correct.

A few days afterwards, I reflected on that almost stopped breath panic thought. Good grief, Teena. What was the big deal? It was dark, you missed the narrow step, several people have fallen off that porch step. But it wasn't just the being down on the ground that was the true issue.  It was really about the fact  that I didn't want my ex husband to see me down. You see, he was in the house behind me. I needed to be up, not laying there flat on the ground.

Down.

downward. slumping. sinking. depressed. groundward. leveled.

I had worked so hard to rise above this status. How many times have I pushed and prodded myself out of this downward thinking in the past few years? Aspects of a failed marriage can push a mind into thinking self defeating thoughts. 

My daughter gave me a little bear once that holds a star in his hands. The star is embroidered with gold letters that read, "when things look down, look up."

Thank God!

Literally.

And then I realized something. Sometimes, when you are on the ground, you are in the perfect positon.... to pray.

It is a humbled position. From this vantage point, we can look upwards and see things so much more clearly.

Thank God!

Literally.

I look up from my humbled spot. I brush away those negative cobwebs.

I am a survivor, I shout!

I can do it! (and my arm muscles up just like the old "we can do it!" war poster girl.)

I plant my feet to the ground and know where my strength comes from.

I am grounded.... for life.

Life goes on.

Thank God!

Literally.