Day 111: Pray a Little prayer for Me

It isn’t often that I make requests on my blog, but today I have one. If you have been a long time reader, then you know about my divorce posts. Over the years, my divorce has equated to a series of battles. Some battles I have won, and some I have lost.

I know many fellow bloggers who have lost children to tragic accidents, while I never want to lessen their pain, or imply my situation is the same as losing a child, because it’s not, it sometimes feels like my little boy is going to be ripped away from me. Going to sleep every night, that pit resides in your stomach and when you wake up there it is again. It’s a terrible feeling, especially when all you pray for is peace.

A close friend sent me a beautiful prayer today, parts of which I’d like to share with you. I promptly printed this prayer and placed one in my purse and one next to my desk–I pull it out when that sinking feeling begins.

Oh God, We are so thankful that you are always here. That you love us unconditionally no matter what we do or where we go. We thank you for the gorgeous sun today and for friendships. For those people that you put into our lives that uplift us and create strong foundations that help strengthen your own. God, you bestow perfect peace to those who are turned to you. Resting in you creates a quietness and keeps the adversary at bay. Create a trust in the Lord, that we know that whatever is going on in our path that we aren’t overwhelmed by the hardships that we face. That we can take a step back before we speak or react and that we have compassion for the situation. If something goes wrong, it wasn’t meant to be, and you bring perfection down the road. God, we thank you for the light that you have brought to our lives. Please give us the vision to be able to see the good in every situation Lord and to not feel like walls are pushing in. Give strength to ride the waves of change, and empower us to be nurturing and loving to those around us.

Let sadness, disappointment and anger be minimal. Let happiness, love, and the good in the situations that we may face be more than enough. Let us have an abundance of grace and hope to deal with what comes our way.

When darkness threatens to overcome, surround us with your presence. We know you deep in our  heart Lord. We want to and are able to run to you with an open heart. We have a perfect trust in your protective power, and soak up your strength like a sponge. Lord, make it your will that the overwhelming sensations of emotions be kept at bay. When satan sends his demons to attack us as we walk your path, give us armor that we will not struggle. We will be able to stand tall and say NO. You will not let this situation get out of control. We are so kind and loving and always want the best out of any situation, but we need to feel at rest. Lord give us understanding that if we feel like we’re failing, we’re not.

Let us submit in ways that you know will be beneficial to us. Have us not be of harm in our words, or callous in our listening and reactions. Help us to remember that love for our child is number one and to always circle back around to that. That we may support one another in all things. Where each may lack, show us the way.

 

Amen.

If you get a chance, please pray this little prayer for me.

a whit.

Day 44: Melting With The Kinders

Today I had the pleasure of teaching the kinders again, yes, Ms. Whit teaches school too!

As I was watching the little ones ride their trikes along the “yellow line” and the little Indian boy yell to me from across the playground in his best fresh U.S. accent, “I like you! I really like you!” (beaming a grin ear to ear).  I couldn’t help but think about how much I really love teaching, how much I really love being a mother. They are so interconnected.

Later in the day, once all of the kinders had found their way home for their afternoon naps, then I had the chance to work with some of the ‘firsties’ one-on-one.  As we were practicing money math a little boy came up behind me and began to stroke my ponytail.  He combed through my hair very gently, and I immediately began to melt.  I can’t remember the last time someone did that, and it took me back to the second grade carpet time when my best friend Robyn used to braid my hair while the teacher told stories.  Eventually he stopped, we resumed our money practicing skills, and he proclaimed time and time again, “ya’ll get it right…the nickle’s the one with the WHITE HOUSE!”

Kids.

We forget how loving they are.

We forget how non-judgmental they are.

We forget how innocent they are.

We forget to be more like them.

Day in, and day out.

We should try to remember.

signed,

A teaching whit.

Inception: Can we ever truly decipher reality?: Day Neuf

Whose to say that reality is when we wake up perhaps the opposite is true, maybe, reality is when we close our eyes and just dream.

I met him sitting on a couch in a swanky club.  His hair was long and his blue eyes piercing, I called him Fabio. His name, “Ethan.”

He says he’s a dentist with a little girl, Hayley.  Hayley’s Mom died of blood cancer—they were married for ten years.  I sense his sadness or perhaps he was just really drunk, but I don’t think so.  We sat there for a long time and I asked most of the questions. Finally, while showing him a picture of my little E that’s when he inquired about our “arrangment” (this term always references custody in the divorce world).  The only time he inquired, and when he did so, it’s as if his sadness reflected directly onto me.

It’s funny how people come into our lives and for a moment change how we think.  Sometimes those thoughts are lasting and pieces of them never dissipate.  It’s like we can’t forget,  our mind won’t let us, ideas of them consume us although at different depths—some small, some big.  Not just people, it can be about anything really—love, happiness, sadness, hysterity.  Once we let them in we’re subject to all their idiosyncracies.   Thoughts are never isolated, that’s not how our mind works, they come in, and then they infiltrate every part of our being.  They alter what we thought before and our truth transforms into something new– something that incorporates this new thing.  It’s mental evolution.

Last night I could not fall asleep.  I’ve been doing really well with this happiness thing.  I can already see my empty hole (the one within my soul) beginning to fill.  The idea, that you must insist upon happiness, you must want it, and work for it—that is now a part of me.  It’s a good thing.   But last night, I missed E.  When he’s with his Dad it’s always hard.  I sat there for a long time, on my bed, waiting to break down, but it didn’t happen.  My mind wouldn’t let me. I could only focus on the fact that he would be back in just a weeks time and then a funny thing happened, I began to recall all of the things in my life that are truly good, true goodness.  I thought of health, and my family, Ini, my job.  I thought of the beautiful plant on my kitchen table.  Suddenly all of that became my reality and I no longer felt sadness but rather happiness.  I thought briefly of Ethan and our meeting.

The mind is a place where life is captured, stored, and processed.  Ultimately, our state of mind equates to our state of life.

The night ended and Fabio, or Ethan, or whoever, went home.  I don’t know if he really was a dentist, a dad, or a widow.  I don’t even  know if I met him in the sense I thought I did, but these details don’t matter anyway.  I do know, he came into my life somehow, and now he’s my idea.

His eyes were defeated—or were they mine?  Was I looking into my own eyes, seeing myself from another perspective?  Perhaps, it was all just a dream, one that woke me up to see the greater me—the happy me.  Maybe that’s why on the bed last night while fighting off defeat I thought of him– just briefly.  Then the idea of happiness resumed.

I’ll love you forever. Period.

Since we’re on the topic of memories…this is one of my favorite childhood books.  I read it to E whenever I can.

Sifting Through Memories: Day Six

Back to the tree analogy and my marriage, slash, divorce, slash, everything in between.  There I am with my shovel in hand, covered in dirt, and a gaping hole in the backyard of my mind. I’m trying to plant a tree here.

Actually, I was on a bed having a pity session, but nevermind that.

With each shovel of dirt, I dig, something new reveals itself or a memory surfaces.  It was like unexplicable deja-vu a thousand times over.  I’d be sitting on one of those toy structures at the park, watching my son jaunt from slide to slide, and suddenly remember a trip or a moment.  Moments are always accompanied by feelings, at least for me, when something is really special I can feel it, taste it, smell it.  I even have a theme song playing in the background.  That’s what happened this morning outside my apartment as I was locking the door.  A breeze was present and the air had a smell of early winter when it’s just beginning to feel crisp.  It reminded me of so many places I’ve been before, it reminded me of September 21, 2005.  Theme song: Tim McGraw, “Let the Wind Blow By” (I recommend playing it while you read this next section).

My blood pressure was high that day, extremely high.  At least that’s what the nurse midwife told me as she undid the pressure cuff and immediately picked up the phone.  Okay, you’re coming back at 1:00–this little guy is going to make his debut today.  She was right, he did.  We got into the car and drove cautiously back to our townhouse, afterall we didn’t want to die en route the hospital to have a baby, actually, I did kind of.  Slamming the trunk shut I took one last puke into the bush (for old time’s sake) and hopped in the car.  For about two exits I thought about how much I would miss the constant throwing up, lack of sleep due to heartburn, itchy belly skin, among other things.  Pregnant women really are hormonal.  At exit three I turned to my then husband, “why don’t we just turn around, turn around!   I changed my mind.”  Unfortunately, there is no changing your mind when you’re nine months pregnant.

Two weeks earlier I vowed that if the pregnancy didn’t end within one month time I would rather be dead.  That is another hormonal pregnancy thought.  It’s also what nine months of vomit does to you.  At exit four I was resolved and praying that my pelvic cavity would do its job.  The hospital room had one of those birthing bathtubs, which I took one look at, just one.  Then I shut the door and ordered all those present to keep it closed indefintely.  The nurse had no problem with that, she promply attached me to the bed via plastic tubing–have at it girl.  At this point, I am thinking two words over and over in my head–watermelon, lemon, watermelon, lemon…how does this equate?

In all actuality, babies aren’t really the size of watermelons and your va jay jay isn’t the size of a lemon either—not when it’s done doing its job.  After four hours of labor (that included pushing) little E entered the world at a mere six pounds, God was watching over me that day.  Despite all my fears, I now realize that labor was the least of my worries, the very least.

The next morning at eight a.m.,  I ordered the nurse to sign the orders that would release me.  My ex sister in-law used to say she was staying as long as they’d let her, five days. Five days?!? Pardon me, but I think I’ll nurse my va jay jay back to health at home and  I was going home, freedom (with a slight inflection)!  I squeezed into my size one jeans (I know rough) and dressed little E for his big trip.  This is where the important part of the story happens, the breeze, the crisp air, the smell, September 21, 2005 (well actually 22nd by now but you get the picture), easily the best moment of my life.  Stepping out of that hospital I was free to live my life however I would choose; free to be the Mom of little E and raise him to know all good things and some bad too, so he’d pick the best experiences in life.  That day, as I placed his seat in my car, I couldn’t know exactly what was to come but I did know certain things.  Like life was good and the crisp air would someday be a remembrance, a moment.

That moment came:

in the fall of 2006 as E took his first steps on the porch,

and 2007 when I found him chasing the dog through the leaves,

2008 as he “spit” out his third birthday candles,

2009 while riding his bike in the autumn months.

This morning it came unexpectedly as I locked the door to our apartment.  Its summer and E spends most of it with his Dad now in Southern California (a product of the divorce).  I won’t see him for another two weeks, so in my humble opinion E sent me that moment on a hot July day to remind me.  This fall is kindergarten, a fresh start at something new for E, maybe me too.  You can turn the music off now.

Three and a half years of digging and remembrances has left me tired and happy and melancholy all at the same time.  I’m thinking it’s finally time to fill that hole up.

Your whit. ing. mom