Driving out of my Heart

The other day, I was a passenger in a car and I spotted my son driving in his car about a half a block ahead of us. I had a very emotional reaction. I was immediately taken back to when I was holding him in my arms and whispering, “I love you,” to him for the first time. Why the reaction?

When Dylan first went to do his school for driving, I recall feeling like I had to pinch myself. Was this for real? Where did my little boy go? I hoped that Dylan took on driving better than he took on riding a bike. A look into my back seat confirmed what I already knew-there were no more car seats, no more kid’s fingerprints on the windows, no cheerios and fruit snacks strewn across the floor and the seats. Now, my vehicle was a bare canvas. My heart ached.

Dylan got his license and has taken much pride in the car that his Dad passed down to him. He keeps it clean, doesn’t like to have any junk in it and is very careful about where he parks it so as not to get it dinged.

All of a sudden it seemed, it was BJ’s turn to go to school to get his license. I remember thinking, “Could this be possible?” Where did the time go? He passed his exam with flying colors and was handed the keys to his car.

  

I have felt over the past few years that my car called, “Life” has been speeding by at an out-of-control pace and I would like to slow it down. I want to seatbelt my kids in so that they stay near me. I want to check all my blind spots so I don’t miss telling them and teaching them all about life and what they can expect. I want them to arrive at wherever they are meant to be in life, safely and well equipped to handle anything the map of life gives them. I think about the lessons I have taught them about being cautious and yet I still want them to look out the windows and enjoy the ride.

I understand why my heart ached so much when I saw the familiar blue car ahead of us. I was no longer driving. I was no longer in control of how my kids get anywhere and it is a scary thought for me and yet one that fills me with pride. When the feelings rush over me about them driving right out of my heart I need to remember, I have handed them some amazing keys and I have to trust that they will proceed with caution, but know when to enjoy the ride. 

Passion for Pinterest

What is it about Pinterest that has me addicted? I can’t stop thinking about it. 

Quotes

Fashion

Polyvore

Photography

Laughs

Dreams

If someone would have told me that I would be head over heels about “liking” something and “repining” it even 3 months ago, I would have called you crazy. In fact, when I first discovered this, I was so confused…why the pins? Why the fascination?

This afternoon, when I found myself trying to fit in about 15 minutes of “pinning time” on my lunch, it hit me. This has become my escape from reality: A safe place for me to go that I can feel free to dream with no confines of a budget or anyone saying no, or even questioning why?  This is mine. All mine.

I don’t find myself commenting on anyone else’s pins too much. I have discovered that I feel it is too personal to comment on someone else’s dreams. It’s not for me to say what brings that feeling of escape for someone else or what colors will move them or how they grow their gardens.

I used to feel that I had to explain this to people and today, I decided that I don’t want to explain it, I want to experience it and it is my time, one pin at a time. 

She is Loved

Time with my daughter, Lauren is precious. She will roll her 14 year old eyes when she reads this and insist that I am being “weird”. I don’t care about the eye roll. It is guaranteed to happen and I would worry if it did not. 

This weekend, we are at Trivia Weekend in Stevens Point-kind of a big deal if you are into that sort of that thing and Lauren came along armed with her swimsuit for hot tub time, several changes of outfits, her blanket, her IPAD, her homework and all of her hair and makeup products.

Right before we were supposed to hit the road, Lauren seemed to hear for the first time, that we were staying in Stevens Point until Sunday. Clearly she wasn’t happy. She claims to have not heard me state this fact earlier and I know that I have, but choose not to argue about it. It is wise to pick my battles. I mentally note that it would have been an even bigger bag of outfits had she known about the extra day. I quietly listened to her sigh and grown about being away for so long. Secretly, I was happy because that means that I have a whole weekend with my daughter.

There are a lot of people that come up to Joe and Lisa’s for trivia. I don’t know most of them, but I know her. I know that she will sit next to me with her cute outfit on and her perfectly brushed hair and smelling like a flower and she will be the one that I enjoy the most. I watch her play with her IPAD. I watch her take pictures. I watch her do homework and I am proud. She is sitting next to me and I can study her-the way she holds her pencil, so different then the way that I hold my own. I watch her take pride in writing her notes for her homework. I know that I was the same. I know that I too loved the way, when I was doing homework, how the pencil felt brushing across the fresh clean paper. I too loved how pretty the words were on my paper with the special loops and circles and care that only a 14 year old can give to homework.

I watch Lauren carefully. I know that I won’t get any of this time back. I want to wrap it all up in a carefully wrapped gift and set it under a Christmas tree that I keep out all year long and when I am feeling sad, or overwhelmed, I can open one of the little packages up and know that it will bring me an immediate smile. She does that, without knowing the power of her words, her smile, her giggle, her words and all I know is that I want her to only be surrounded with people who will protect and cherish all those things about her. I know this isn’t possible, but as a mother, I can’t help but pray that this is truly what happens.

There are people that fill this house this weekend that won’t know that she loves to dance and she is fantastic at it. How one moves their body like that I will never understand and it is effortless. These strangers (friends for the weekend) won’t know about how she likes to write, that she likes to organize, that she loves to surround herself with pretty things but still loves getting down right dirty. They won’t know that she loves to take care of people, especially me. She gives from the very depths of her heart, without being told to. She is love.

I know that she would rather be with her friends. I know that she would rather not be driving two hours to hang out with strangers, searching the internet for random stuff that matters to know one but everyone playing trivia this weekend. I am so happy that she is here. She is loved. 

$4.98 Grilled Cheese

Everyone has that diner/restaurant in their hometown-you know the one-the one where they are still wearing the uniforms you remember them wearing when you were a kid. I am not talking the same exact ones, but a diner that prefers to go to the stand by uniform that has worked for years.

Everyone has that diner/restaurant where you gather and the coffee still costs a few coins that you leave on the table. The waitresses have been there since the beginning and won’t quit there until they are no longer with us on this earth.

Everyone has that diner/restaurant where you feel warm inside when you walk in the door and you know you will be greeted with a smile-always.

I hadn’t visited our local diner/restaurant in quite some time. Lunch choices led me to pick the restaurant with a smile, thinking about the warmth and the comfort that would surround me when I stepped in.

I met my friend at the restaurant and was immediately taken back to a different time/place. The glitter purple eye shadow on the greeter with the 80’s hair, the fresh baked goodies in the display and the Halloween decorations where ever the eye could see. I was home.

The chatter between the two best kind of girl friends erupted and the menus lay unopened on the table. Several visits from the waitress encouraged us to make a decision. I knew what I wanted. A grilled cheese sandwich-one that only could bring more comfort and warmth to me and make the lunch even more special…no fries… just the sandwich.

The laughter and banter continued. The sandwich came with two hamburger pickle slices-a simple sandwich.

Suddenly lunch was over. It always happens that way. Time runs away and gives no warning. That is when the bill came. Not a cross thought came to mind as I picked up the bill. Never once did I think I was about to be robbed. My heart stopped. $4.98 for a plain grilled cheese sandwich?! No fancy bread. No fancy cheese. No extra toppings. Nothing but a stinking grilled cheese sandwich. Do I share with my friend my disgust?! My family diner/restaurant had basically just kicked me in the stomach.

I do the lean in and let my friend know that I had been robbed. The stunned look on her face confirmed that I had, indeed been robbed. I began to look around at the old booths, the old tables and chairs, the originals by the looks of it, the cheesy Halloween decorations taunting me. What just happened? When did the diner become so dismal and overpriced?!

I went to the check out with a heavy heart. No dessert for me. No treats to bring home to my family. My grilled cheese sandwich gave me a heavy heart. Times are changing and I realized that someday, I will tell my grandchildren that a grilled cheese used to cost $4.98 and it will seem like  a deal. 

Birth Certificate

Today was a milestone. Today, I applied for a marriage license. Second time, however it is the first time in my memory. The real first time is missing in action…lost somewhere in the recesses of my mind, for reasons unbeknownst to me.

Today: Best day of my life. More powerful than receiving the ring and the question even-not sure why. My life was lying out on a desk in front of me at the clerk of courts. Birth certificate. Driver’s license. Passport. Divorce decree. $70. Beside me, the man that has captured my heart and my soul…is signing at the dotted line, saying that he promises to marry me.

“Please check everything in this paperwork and make sure that it is correct.” Eyes swimming over the words-I know that they should say something-I just am feeling very emotional and that emotion is clouding my ability to read, like fog on the windshield…I want to see through, but I can’t.

William Thomas Johnson is marrying Michelle Lee Kaping.

Eight words that have changed me beyond what I can put into words. HOPE. Eight words surround me with comfort, warmth and excitement all at once.

I look over. I can hardly breathe. The clouds of emotion clear and I read through the paperwork. I pick up the pen and have never been so sure of anything in my entire life.

William Thomas Johnson has given me a new birthday. My life is beginning again because he showed me it could. I feel like I should lean over and thank him for introducing me to myself. I have been missing “me” my entire life. I am so excited. I want to get to know me. I am so grateful for the love without strings that he has given me. Unconditional…beautiful…true…love forever and ever no matter what.

The pen slides over the paper…my name appears on the line. The clerk tells me the license will be in the mail on August 23^rd and then tells us to have a good day. She has no idea she should be filling out the birth certificate as from this day forward, I truly feel alive for the first time.  

I Don't Sleep

“In the middle of the night, I go walking in my sleep, Through the desert of truth,To the river so deep
We all end in the ocean, We all start in the streams, We're all carried along, By the river of dreams
In the middle of the night.”

-Billy Joel-River of Dreams

I love the song, River of Dreams, by Billy Joel. Catchy tune, catchy lyrics and yet I have to admit that it strikes a bad chord in me as well because I don’t sleep. I want a river of dreams to wash over me and drown me, at least for one 8-10 hour period.

At the end of this month, it will be three years since I have “slept through the night”-not by choice. I want to sleep. I spend a good percentage of my waking hours thinking about sleeping. I obsess. Sleep has become an out of reach dream.

I have three teenage children who have no problem sleeping. They seem to sleep all the time…taunting me with their numerous hours in a row of uninterrupted, carefree slumber. I am marrying a man that can fall asleep sitting up even. He can have night terrors; wake up screaming and yelling and instantly fall back to sleep- calm, peaceful, deep sleep. Sometimes, I stare at them, in the middle of the night and the envy is so thick that a knife could not begin to cut through it. Don’t get me wrong. I am happy that they can sleep. It is a gift to be treasured and they all need it. I need it. It isn’t happening for me.

I don’t know what I would do if I would sleep. I get so many things covered when I lay awake thinking. I have been using that time to think about all that is wrong and I should be using it to think about what’s right! I have time to dream while being awake and I haven’t been using that as an asset. If I could get my thoughts more focused on the positive during my quiet night, I truly could change my life faster. There is a reason I haven’t been sleeping, I just wasn’t seeing it.  

Strength

Strength

If I’m afraid, it doesn’t mean that I’m not brave.
And if I doubt, it doesn’t mean that I’ve lost faith.
And if I fall, if doesn’t mean I can’t go on.
And if I cry, it doesn’t mean that I’m not strong.”
- Jana Stanfield and Karen Taylor-Good, Doesn’t Mean That I’m Not Strong from the CD, Brave Faith

The last line of this quote: “And if I cry, it doesn’t mean that I’m not strong,” resonates through me. I have always been a crier-ever since I could remember, whenever I was feeling any sort of emotion about anything, the tears would come.

In grade school, I never seem to fit in-at least I thought I didn’t. “I didn’t get girls”, is more what it was all about. I thought there was something wrong with me as someone was always mad at me. I didn’t feel like I could trust and as I grew older, I thought it was because I lacked strength…the strength to stand up for myself, the strength to not care what others thought about me. In hindsight, it wasn’t about strength; it was about girls being girls…and me just not going along with the game playing which made me strong. When confronted with someone “being mad at me”, or not wanting to be my friend any more, I would get tears-not necessarily tears because I was sad, but tears because I didn’t understand. Frustration would come in the form of a tissue and some running mascara and some swollen eyes.

In high school, tears came mainly because of my parents. Their strictness was something I didn’t understand. I felt like the rules were stifling me and not allowing me to breathe and I just wanted to be me. I just wanted to have some freedom to find out who I was and to have fun. The strictness was all the way from what I could wear to not being able to talk on the phone to not watching television to having a 10pm curfew no matter what age I was and no matter what day of the week it was. The tears came when I was trying to explain myself and I felt like no matter what, no one was listening. 

Tears came at my wedding. Not happy. Not sad. Just resolved that this situation was better than what I was currently in.

Tears at the birth of my children-I did this! What an amazing, life altering experience! Tears continue to come with raising children. So many peaks and valleys-all the firsts brought tears…and the pride I feel from the very bottom of my soul through every breath I take…the kids know, tears will come-it is just my love for them pouring out of me. 

I have had it pointed out to me on numerous occasions that I am “too emotional”. I get any kind of news and more than likely, there will be tears. When I am beyond angry…there are tears. This “too emotional” comment has made me feel weak. Without being able to explain why I am the way I am, I struggle. 

It wasn’t until recently that I realized that I am stronger than I thought. It took strength to move thousands of miles away with my small children and a husband that worked all the time and make a home away from my home. It took strength to battle skin cancer and other ailments that have come my way. 

It took strength to start saying “no” to all the people that were used to me saying, “Yes” all the time. It took strength to walk away from a marriage that was slowly taking all the life out of me and to finally stand up for myself. I AM important.

Finally, it took strength to start a new relationship-to open my heart to love and trust again…strength that I didn’t know was in me all this time. This strength within is healing me.