But it wasn't me!

I remember saying that one day she would apologize to me for her behavior.  I was convinced that it was she who was the erroneous party and I was blameless in the situation.

Then I found myself years later dialing her number and apologizing.
(OK, a small aka LARGE part of me expected her to return the sentiment.)

That perhaps is one of the most humbling phone calls I have had to endure.

back in the days of my youth...when I THOUGHT I knew it all

At the time, I thought I was doing everything right.  And I probably was doing my best at that time.  But my best was not what was best for the situation.  It fell a tad .... or a lot... bit short.

And I find myself now faced with that same situation...but I'm playing the opposing role.  I am not the stepmom anymore.  I'm THE mom.  And my past behavior now haunts me because I know now what this position feels like.

How I wish I could pretend like I behaved correctly and respond with pomp and confidence.  But I know I didn't.  I'd like to just say "but it wasn't me!" or some other version of how right I am.  But I got nothin. Just look at me in this pic from Amsterdam (or Switzerland...no idea which).  I look like I have it all together.  All the secrets of the world and how to behave are just under that blonde braid.  Turns out this isn't true.  Never was.  I hate being wrong.

I suppose that God created us with this big ol' hole of wrongness.  Otherwise we wouldn't need Him.

I need Jesus but I hate being wrong.

Ordinary momma to extraordinary boys

I drop my boys off to school in the mornings and am greeted by preteens calling for Graham.  I see their excitement when we pull up.  They are genuinely excited to see this little four year old boy.   He  gives high fives and hugs as he struts past them into his classroom.  He acts like the mayor of the school.

My older son Brady walks behind, keeping a close eye on the interactions.  He is aware of Graham's popularity.  He smiles shyly and heads to his classroom, greeted only mildly by others.

My heart hurts as I watch this.  God and I shared some tears.

Graham is our miracle story.  He was not expected to live after falling into the bucket and drowning.  He was prayed over by thousands of people across the world, thanks to social media.  His story touched many lives.  Not only does he have the story of a super hero, but he has the personality also.  He is extremely charismatic and outgoing.  People are drawn to him.  His smile lights up an entire room.  He is curious and funny.  He gives affection freely.  He is easy to love.

Brady is more cautious with his affection.  He is pensive and insightful.  His humor is not so easy to pick up on.  He doesn't immediately trust people and takes more time to get to know.  He is largely identified as being Graham's brother.

Brady and I have had multiple conversations about his own significance and worth in the seeming shadow of his younger brother.  Because he is overlooked much of the time, even by those who don't know about Graham's story, he has had to navigate his self-esteem in a way that Graham does not.  Often times, people do not even know his name.  This is tough on a little boy.  This is tough on his momma.

I have also had to navigate how I parent them.  They each require different things from me.  They need different types of affection and encouragement.  They respond very differently to the same situation.  Seeing how different they are greeted by others has made me search for ways to equally boost their view of themselves, and focus on their internal well being.

We are a society of external focus...extroverts are given a lot of attention. The internal self is not as publicly praised. 

I am wild about both of my boys equally.  Seeing them grow and change, getting to experience in their lives and their development will probably be the most significant thing I do in my lifetime.  I love them in a way I won't ever be able to love anyone.

I sat behind Graham in church yesterday.  He sits in the front right next to his Papa.  I felt so full of love for this little boy.  I began reflecting on his short life and his great impact.  My dad spoke about the submission that Jesus had for his parents...though they were ordinary and He was extraordinary, He submitted to them.

My mind made the leap to my own kids and how extraordinary they are.

And how very ordinary I am.

Yet God in His vast wildness that I will never comprehend deemed me worthy to be their mother.

Graham .. my super, charismatic son.  And Brady .. my amazing, insightful son.

So totally opposite.  Yet so equally extraordinary.

one tired scientist

I'm not a huge fan of dating at 40 with two little boys.  It has got to be one of the most awkward things I have experienced thus far in my life.  It's not the same as when you were single, when things less appealing were tolerated and not deal breakers.  Every flaw is highlighted and examined until you as the scientist go cross-eyed with all the detail under the microscope.

Can they accept that I am an independent woman who has demands that won't involve them?  Will they love my boys?  Will I love his kids?  Do they take care of themselves?  Are they emotionally healthy and mature?  Can they deal with my difficult relationship with my ex?  Can I deal with theirs?  Will they love me when I'm needy? Broke? Emotionally abandoned?  Do they offer stimulating conversation?  Am I attracted to them?  Do they make me feel safe?  Can they provide stability?  Do I like their friends?  Their family?  Do we have enough in common?  Is he educated?  Does he love God?  Will he be a good role model?  How does he behave under stress?  Does he have time for me?  Do my friends like him?

After so many broken relationships is he willing to give himself to someone again?  Am I?

This is just the short list.

Even though there is great caution in the experiment, the results are tenuous and fragile.  One false move and the whole thing is contaminated.  And you must begin.  Again.  And again.  And again.

And maybe.  Just maybe you can't conduct the experiment without contamination.  And you have to just abandon the whole thing because there will never be a successful outcome.

I ain't doin' it.

The microscope is full of organisms.  And this scientist is exhausted.

Privileged?

I posted a video that I thought was amazing and didn't think anything about the race aspect of it....apparently there is a whole movement about "white privilege" and blah, blah, blah.  I don't even want to waste internet air on that but it made me think about what being privileged means...

I've lived a tumultuous life of my own making.  I had incredible parents and an incredible support group of friends and family.  I was educated.  I was given many, many opportunities to succeed and be at the front of the line.  And it was nothing that I earned....only what was given to me.  But because of the many wrong turns I made, I found myself at the back of the line.  Divorced and struggling to make ends meet.   Instead of working harder, I fell further behind.  I got in line behind those who didn't have the opportunities I had because I felt sorry for myself.  Or was just too scared to move.  Whatever the reason, I certainly lost my "privileged" status.

It dawned on me this weekend when I was surrounded by so many successful women that I was losing this race.  By choice.  I didn't have a partner in life who could aid me in life.  I didn't share my bills with anyone else.  I wasn't living in a two income household anymore.  It's just me and my two boys.  And I never want to have to ask my kids to take care of me.

But this is where I am.  I will have to work harder to get back to where I was in all my privileged glory.  I don't have the same "privileges" as other women my age.  But I can either let that paralyze me, or I can let it fuel me to bigger and better things.

I will be in a house with a pool someday.  And I won't have to wonder if I can pay my bills either.  One day.

My knuckles may be gripping so tightly to the thread that holds me together that they are white, but I'm in the same boat as many of my fellow black, brown, yellow, white women in this.  So if "White privilege" means "white knuckling it" then yes, yes I am.

Yawning and tapes

I have this annoying habit of yawning.  It's not that I'm tired.  I'm just overwhelmed. Anxious. Bored.?  Who knows.  But it's definitely not an admirable trait.  So I used the 5 second rule before I yawned to see if that would nip it in the sprouting bud that was beginning to get full of irritating habits.  And I succeeded.  My yawns are now simply because I'm tired...yay for me.

This accomplishment is small in the great scheme of things important.  But it just confirms that our brains are an intense mosaic of complexities.  I posted all sorts of positive reinforcements in my office.  I put them where I would have to stare at them daily.  Most of them were about my goals with my work.  And they were accomplished.

So now my notes to myself are:


"You are kind."

"You are smart."

"You are successful."

"You are worth it."

I play the most horrible tapes in my head about myself.

When I screw up the tape is...
"Yup, Rebekah, way to confirm that you suck.  No one is surprised by this."

When I fail...
"Of course you failed!!  You are not good enough for this."

When I feel someone doesn't care about me ...
"Why would they care about you????  You aren't anything special!"

As I type this Pandora chose to play, "Jesus Paid it All."

I hear the savior say, thy strength indeed is small

Child of weakness, watch and pray, find in me thine all in all

'Cause Jesus paid it all

All to him I owe

Sin had left a crimson stain, he washed it white as snow

Lord, now indeed I find thy power and thine alone

Can change the leper's spots and melt the heart of stone

'Cause Jesus paid it all

All to him I owe...

It's washed away, all my sin

And all my shame

And when before the throne I stand in him complete

"Jesus died my soul to save" my lips shall still repeat

Jesus paid it all

All to him I owe...

(I just watched an ad so I could hit the replay button.  Man, advertisers are genius.)

So there you have it.  His tape to me says....

"You are worth it."

"You are successful."

"You are smart."

"You are kind."

Maybe like the yawning I can kick the annoying habit of telling my brain ugly things and instead speak truth. Because He says I am worth it...He chose me when no one else would.  That makes me pretty damn special. 

thin air and little faces

Sometimes the air is too thin.  I take multiple deep breaths only to find my air supply wanting.  It trickles into my lungs like coins being tossed into a fountain.  Spreading out its minimal treasure with disappointed illumination.

Perhaps air isn't enough.

Sometimes it takes an army of resources to fill my lungs with enough life to sustain me.  It takes time.  A compassionate embrace.  Words that softly empower me.  And tears.

Tears and air and kindness.

But I'm afraid my boys are the only remedy to my loss of air.  The tears, air and kindness are just bandaids where there should be stitches.  I feel like I am having to create purpose where there is none.  I miss their little faces.

Not being the one who hears about their days, who kisses their scrapes and cuts, who fixes them dinner/lunch/snacks, who does their laundry and puts them to bed every night is insanely difficult to swallow.

Sometimes life is made in the difficult...Character is developed when there are trials...Purpose is found in desperation.  Right???

The air is too thin for me to think clearly.

feast or ice cream?

I tell my boys often that they should be reserving their emotional energy on things that are actually deserving of their tears/anger/sadness/frustration aka emotional energy.  This is not an easy lesson to teach to a 7 and 4 yr. old.  Especially since their 40 yr. old momma doesn't quite get it.
(homegirl just typed a 5 instead of a 4...give me a moment to collect myself....

.............................................OK, I'm back.  And I am 40 NOT 50!)

My boys are prone to get angry when their iPads aren't connecting or when they are losing a game.  They throw fits when they can't have one more scoop of ice cream or when their finger hurts.  They totally lose it when their brother takes something away from them.  That, perhaps, is the only thing that warrants a large amount of emotion.  I get upset when somebody takes something that is mine, too.

On the other hand, there isn't much in life that doesn't matter.

So it becomes a task of deciphering the emotionally warranted things vs. the things that just need to be paid attention to.  This is a life long journey...this task of keeping your emotions in check.

I was broken up with via text once.  It was a long enough relationship to warrant a face to face conversation.  I tried my best to be brave and dismiss it/him as insignificant.  But I had spent my precious time and energy on this relationship.  It certainly deserved more than a dismissive text.  I wrangled with myself on this one...trying to talk myself into reflecting his emotional dismissiveness.  I wanted also to have meager and cool feelings.   But that would in turn erase the precious months I spent investing in the relationship.  It would nullify memories and relationships I formed because of him.  He had seeped into every part of my life during those 9 months...intentional or not.  If I had agreed with his diminutive attitude, I was essentially saying that I can cut out 9 months of my life simply because someone else had decided to bow out with disregard.

I believe that the emotionally mature are able to stand by their emotions regardless of how they are received.  If our emotions are treated with indifference, it doesn't make them any less palatable to us.  Or it shouldn't, rather.

So in an attempt to grow up, I spend time alone with gratitude for the time to dig.  I journal to make sense of how I feel.  I accept things that don't matter to others but matter a great deal to me as important.  And I am continuously filing things away into the "emotionally deserving" or "let it go" file.

Life is made up of moments...great and small.  And most of the time we are too busy throwing a fit over one scoop of ice cream to realize we have been robbed of a feast.

Love despite my bad breath

"spirit lead me where my trust is without borders...let me walk upon the water...wherever you will call me..."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1m_sWJQm2fs

I have a tough decision to make.  Like the kind of decision that won't let you sleep and gets you out of bed at 4 in the morning.  It's irritating and needs to be satisfied.  Choices are fickle things.  You make them because at the time it seems rational and reasonable.  And then later on you discover that choice isn't the best one anymore...so you then have to make yet another one to alleviate the nagging feeling that perhaps you got it wrong the first time.

One small choice can turn a situation that was mildly manageable into wildly uncontrollable.

I'm not uber religious anymore.  I don't go to church like I used to.  I don't read my Bible habitually.  But there is a presence that stays with me always....the only thing that keeps me sane at times.  He never leaves me.  So when I'm in the midst of confusion, He is my peace.  He drowns out the other voices that contribute opinions.  He focuses my heart on what is most important.  He allows me to cut through the petty and stare at the nucleus of the problem.

And always, without fail, love is at the center of all goodness and hope and light.  Love, the kind of non-judgmental love that covers you even when you have a face mask on and you've gotten a little plump and you have bad breath from your mouth guard and maybe you need to seriously reconsider the color of your hair.  But this love isn't affected in the least by the minute and frivolous.  He is only concerned with the state of your heart.

So without borders...wherever He calls me...the decision will be made with the love that sees beyond my bad breath.