Self-Help

Yesterday I did what I haven't done in ages...I visited a self-help section at the bookstore. Not just any bookstore...but Powell's downtown! I am amazed at how many books there are on how to fix myself. Get happy...get skinny...get smart...stop letting people take advantage of you...live life with intention...find the man of your dreams...the list goes on...

Why was I there? I'm not really sure. I think I wanted to heal my life. What I realized in walking up and down the stacks of books...by an endless number of authors...is that I have all that I need to heal my life right inside of me. I don't need books. I just need me...and my God.

God knew what he was doing when he picked Paul to be one of his "go-to" guys. Saul/Paul...a man in need of some self-help if ever there was one. Until that road to Damascus...then his life changed...in an instant. God changed Paul...and Paul's words can help us change.

I don't know if God works such "in your face" miracles these days...but I do know that God can make the difference between a dreary life and a joyful one. It isn't something that just happens though...we need to do our part. We need to participate.

As the new decade unfolds I am committed to uncovering God's teachings on how to lead a joyful life...beginning with Philippians 4:8:

"...whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy - think about such things."

At the highest level, it begins with God...and continues with understanding our place in Him. In its practical form, it begins with changing our thoughts. Changing what we think about...what we meditate upon.

What I realized when I walked out of Powell's without making a purchase is that I have the only book I need...I just need to read it...and meditate on it. I have God's Word...the Bible. The best self-help book around. - Cathy

Women's Worth (or "Ode to The C/Kathies. And an Annie."

One of my C/Kathies wrote a great blog today about the loneliness women can feel and how important it is to have our tribe/cheerleading squad/fabulous girlfriends at the ready. Especially this time of year, when we can feel assaulted by the happy intact family Hallmark brigade, it's important to take a break to remember.

I confess my father's recent death has hit me harder than I would have imagined. But in my reeling, I've had my friends stand sentry, even when I would have been more comfortable being alone in my grief, not liking to do the red-nosed ugly cry in front of an audience.

But Cathy came over that first day to walk, and has since listened and questioned and provided some amazing blueberry tea. She gets that you just need to show up, and has been waiting patiently at the ready for my dam to burst which, actually, happened last Friday.

Then yesterday, Cathy & Annie got it, laughing, when I questioned through my tears whether my seemingly distant God was enough when I had Ben & Jerry so close by. Plus Annie said she'd never have guessed that I'd gained weight, grazing through my grieving. I mean, c'mon. Does it get better?

Two other Kathies listen like wise women who know (and they do), and yet another Kathy asked to borrow my daughter this Saturday so they could bake cinnamon-y yeasty stuff. All day. And then have me back for dinner that night.

In and around the loneliness, the lostness, I have these amazing compass points. I've just got to look.

What do you need to tell your tribe this Christmas?

Death and Life

So, my dad died a week ago today from injuries sustained in a car accident.

I have been "fatherless" for a week, technically speaking. But based on our rocky relationship, I have been fatherless for far longer due to numerous understandings and misunderstandings. But I have to say, this past week I've been acutely aware that I have one less layer of protection in the world, even though I stopped needing a dad years ago, even though he hadn't been my "dad" for years.

I spoke with a pastor today who commented dryly that single parenthood wasn't a very sexy cause, so to speak, but that single parents impact us all--individually, societally, corporately. We need to be committed to them, to each other, even though our life's not terribly glamorous, even though it's often a slog, day in, day out...first right then left.

I know a little more about my father now that he's died. I know more the reasons of why, perhaps, he didn't have it in him to do the daily slog with me.

I know that God in His mercy has seen fit to give me the best rental dads a girl could ask for. And one special one who's considering a lease-to-buy option. :)

I know that I didn't want to need things from my dad. But maybe he needed to be needed.

As I continue to process his death and my new place in life, I'm reminded that I need to stay anchored. It is easy to feel alone and untethered as a single mom, and especially easy now with the thought that occupies much of my time and brainspace these days: Huh. He's gone. Some friends who've lost parents already have been especially tender with me, knowing the questioning, understanding the floundering and for that, I'm especially grateful.

But as much as I ache for a different ending with him, I know that I must continue contributing to a different ending of my own. It's why I want to continue this good work started here with Eve's Daughters and why I continually invite others to join me.

Maybe we'll get to the point where there's community instead of polarity, of a miles-traveled marathon versus a quick check-in. Maybe our glamorless status will become nearly comical in its irony: Because we'll have each other, and that's a thing a beauty.

And perhaps most important, those relationships create another layer of protection: of caring, of concern, of listening, laughing, crying, walking...living...in an uncertain world. And maybe that's plenty more than any of us can hope for, giving or receiving.

-Karen

Do Over...

Is it possible to get a “do over”? I want one…not because I feel I need to right a wrong; not because I want to take something back that I said; not because I simply messed up. No, I want a do over because my kids have grown up and I’m not ready…

How does it happen? It seems like just yesterday I found myself a single mom. Then E was 7 months old and J was 3 years old, and now E is 15 and J is 18…a man…an adult!

Today E and I walked to the elementary school so that she could work on her hitting and pitching. When we were done and I was walking the track…silent tears hit my cheeks. Why can’t I have the time back? Why can’t I be sitting in the gym waiting for J to play a revolutionary soldier and E to play a recycling cheerleader? Where did all the time go?

I write this as J heads to watch the Westview girls play in the state soccer championship…his high school career finished. Where did the time go? Just yesterday we were checking mountain passes for snow so we knew the best route for a soccer game in Bend…

One of the hardest things about being a single mom is that we tend to just survive the moments…instead of enjoying them. We are too exhausted to do otherwise…we have so much to do…so much to organize.

Today I want a do over…I want to stop trying to orchestrate everything, live in each moment, and love each interaction with the kids. The interactions of today are different, but they are still moments…still memories…still love. It’s never too late. I may not get the do over that I dream of (starting back at kindergarten and reliving the moments), but I do get a do over in terms of attitude…I can look for the good in each interaction…each moment…each word. I can smile at past memories and focus on living in the new ones…

I’m not ready for E and J to grow up, but I am getting used to it. Life isn’t over…it is a continuation. I do get a do over of sorts…today I choose to enjoy each moment and make new memories to add to the fabulous ones of the past. Today I get a “perspective” do over. I challenge each of you to do the same...whether a single mom, a married mom, an aunt, or grandma...live in each moment...make memories...and think upon the good in it all...past, present and future.

The Lonelies

Cath & I were just discussing yesterday how we've kinda dropped the ball with regard to blogging. It's not for lack of work; there has been lots of activity, not the least of which is our first fundraising effort. But if you're like me, you know it's easy to put your head down, dig in, work a lot...and feel totally disconnected from the human race. And *then* I wonder why I feel so lonely...

I'm always amazed that my daughter is so young but she *gets* it. She knows, every now and again, to declare it Jamma Day and just hang around, chilling. I'm sure she did not learn this from me. She wants to snuggle on the couch, watch too much TV and connect with me, while I'm...looking at my watch and thinking how much there is to do.

Call it the Clash of the Types: I'm an A (maybe even an A+!) and E is somewhere lower in the alphabet. Perhaps a Q or so. But I don't sense in her the (sometimes inherent) loneliness I feel from moving constantly. It seems she knows how to unplug, charge up and re-group.

I wonder: Did I know this long ago, before life caught up with me?

I'm so thankful for a business partner like Cath, to whom I can say, "I'm just struggling and I feel alone" and know she doesn't feel tasked with fixing anything. My friend Rebecca filled that bill last weekend, and my brother the other day. Perhaps as single moms, we need that connection even m0re, so we can turn back around and plug into our kids again, successfully, rather than losing all our juice. Not to mention plug into each other so we can keep encouraging and keep going.

I know the disconnect is temporary, and that I'm less alone than I think. But maybe it's during these times that we learn the good reminder to stop and reach out, instead of treading even faster.

Easy Does It

I got to spend time with a good friend this week--one who knows so much about me that we simply pick up where we left off. In the four or five years since we've seen each other, we've navigated middle- and high-school transitions, full-time employment, relational quandaries, second-floor bathroom overflows that require holes cut into first-floor ceilings...the usual. There's an absence of judgment and an abundance of laughter. My petite blonde friend is raising three active boys, so her looks deceive: She has a core of titanium underneath the slim exterior.

We laughed about how lax we've become, as moms, as the years pass: What once would have sent us in a panic to the ER now merits an unsterile Band-Aid, haphazardly applied. She noted that a woman she knows refuses to let her boys play with pretend guns at home. But she has no problem asking my friend if her boys could come over to play with her boys' pretend guns. And, somehow, this woman is the better mom for it. Go figure.

The further I slog down the Mommy Superhighway, I'm finding I know less, not more. I thought my utter dedication and tireless supervision would keep life in line, but there's so much over which we have zero control. My girl's heart gets bruised with some regularity. Plans change, people leave, life is terribly unfair. I get crabby when I'm feeling overworked and underappreciated.

I wish someone would have told me early on that diligence is fine and all, but Easy Does It should be the new mom's mantra. I think I'd have fewer gray hairs and more good memories, less stress and more fun. I wouldn't have gone as ballistic years ago when I saw my then-toddler sharing her ice cream with the dog (one lick for her, one lick for him), or as wigged out over a 104-degree temp that barely slowed her down.

I'm hopeful, as Eve's Daughters progresses, that we'll have more stories based in an easier-going reality--of times when cereal suffices for dinner, when cleaning the toilet gets waylaid for a game of tickle, when an outing for $1 ice cream is doable even on the tight budget. When Easy Does It becomes a way of life.

How have you simplified?

-Karen-

All Things New

It's become my favorite time of year. I love September because, to me, it signifies a clean slate, a grand re-do. Close your eyes: Remember the sawdusty smell of freshly sharpened #2 pencils? A new tip meant a new start: mulligans for all, with hope abounding.

My girl came home from her first day of middle school and said it was “awesome.” My heart leapt, relieved, as I’d been wondering about her all day. She had teased me this morning, asking if I was going to cry like I did when she started first grade.

I told her today was kinda like first grade again, but she was taller.

Fresh lunchbox, fresh backpack, fresh start. My heart aches, grateful.

I cannot tell you how or why, but it feels like I’m getting a do-over as well. I have been quietly thankful, not entirely sure of the circumstances or how long they’ll last. But I feel supported, buoyed by a clear course. I’m no longer rudder-less as I was in the early days of my divorce. It feels to me like an early thanksgiving—purposeful but humble, jubilant but shy. It took a long time, but I’m becoming new.

I talked to an old friend tonight who’s known me since I was 12. I told her about this strange state I’m in; she told me I was due. The newness is tempered by the full knowing that life continues to twist and turn, to present challenges and those ubiquitous “growth opportunities” that “build character,” as if we need any more of that. Things will break; homework will perplex; doctors’ bills will come. Nothing really changes, but everything does, seemingly. Something has shifted, and I think it has to do with purpose, and direction, and understanding and maybe some hard-won wisdom.

I’m getting to see things, people transformed, and it’s pretty amazing. As bittersweet as it is to watch my girl grow, knowing she’ll need me less and less, it’s equally thrilling to watch My Girls (and I use that term with love) grow—the amazing single moms I’m meeting and learning about. I mean, how cool is that—that I get to be along for the journey?

I hope you enjoy the strange newness of the season as well—I’m finding what seems like an ending often is a beginning.

-Karen-