When you are nine years old and all you want in the world is for both your parents to attend your student led parent teacher conference.
And when the stars align, you feel like the luckiest girl in the world to have your parents rapt attention for thirty minutes. You have all the time in the world as you talk about the things at school that make you happy.
That right there is a good day.
“Momma why is it this way?” she asks me.
The eyes imploring, wanting more.
“We couldn’t make it work, your Dad and I”.
“We had big dreams that we couldn’t share. Now your Daddy has someone who shares those dreams and it will be good”.
“So you broke apart then Momma” she whispers as she unlaces her fingers from mine.
“Oh my Ellie girl nothing is broken. It can’t be broken. You exist.”
“I don’t understand Momma”.
“Daddy and I made you. You are made from the best parts of each of us woven together. You aren’t broken are you?”
“No Momma I am whole”
“So you see then even though Daddy and I aren’t married nothing is broken. You and Audrey and Sidney make us whole”.
I step in and I am transported back.
Flooded with memories of my making.
The clothing I now view as my collection.
They bring me sweet smiles each day while I debate what will be worn.
The sleeve of that dress I had on the first time the man I liked grabbed my hand. When I look at it, I can feel the texture and warmth of his touch in my palm.
The sweatshirt I stole from my brother’s closet freshman year in college. The edges worn, the letters faded. It’s now Sidney’s favorite. When I ask her why she takes it she tells me “it smells like you Momma“.
There’s the scarf my best friend gave me for Christmas one year that I wore on a colder then usual December vacation to Disney.
The cream blazer I splurged on was the first big purchase I hadn’t needed to “clear” with anyone, a reminder of the independence I now have.
And those running shoes. Always off to the side, ready to slide on each morning. A new pair every 6 months or so. Medals of all the miles logged.
For years I would walk into spaces like this in homes I made and question my worth. The skirt that felt too tight. The shirt that couldn’t hide what I thought needed hiding.
Gradually those feelings faded and all that is left is the goodness in those pieces.
And now when I find my niece standing in the center of that closet wearing my heels or Sidney in the Wittenberg sweatshirt, I feel such joy.
The clothes are comfort.
The fabric, memories of a life well lived.
I am their foundation.
I see and understand it more clearly each year.
That smirk Sidney makes when she throws a biting comment my way, that’s my smirk, my biting comment.
Ellie’s pants this morning, her hysterics over the way they felt touching her belly. Her insistence that “nothing in my closet fits”. That right there was a thirty-eight year old women in a five-year old’s body.
And Audrey when she nods her head in agreement to something you know she doesn’t feel in her core is right, I see myself, a million times over saying yes when really I mean no. Trying hard not to rock the boat.
We go to church,
have amazing friends and family.
and are surrounded by love and opportunity.
But, that means nothing without something to emulate. A living, breathing, model, that twenty-four hours a day shows them how to rise and fall.
It is me.
The responsibility sits on my shoulders.
And in that responsibility, is quite possibly, one of the most profound privilege’s of parenthood.
The window into your own behavior and the chance to course correct.
The chance for each of us to do better.
It’s amazing where life takes you when you stop waiting for it to begin.
Breathing it all in and living in the moment.
These ladies make my belly hurt from laughter.
They are supportive, loving and genuine.
They are smart and successful, humble and giving.
We landed smack dab in the middle of each others lives what feels like a thousand years ago.
They began as my work family, but now they’re a part of my tribe.
I miss our younger years when we could yell over cubicles at one another and wander down for a Starbucks at 9, 11:30 and 3. Now each one of us has carved a different path and we must settle for dinners and drinks scheduled a month in advance.
When we get together we make up for all of those days apart.
I am grateful for their advice, their patience and their support.
I am honored that when I walk away from a dinner with them I feel as if I have received and I have given.
I’ve navigated the channel of divorce in a forthcoming manner.
I share the experience and what I have learned in hopes that in the offering others will gain.
I acknowledge the wrongs I have made, maybe in an attempt to set things right.
But one area I’ve never felt comfortable sharing publicly is how I manage, at 38, to navigate a world vastly different from the one I left in 1999 when I took another’s hand in marriage.
There are cellphones.
There is texting.
People email and very rarely write letters.
Courting is a foreign thing and love is often decided in minutes rather than months.
Many times over the last two years, I have pondered walking away.
My life is full.
I have everything I could have ever asked for and more.
So why then would I travel this difficult path that may or may not place me in front of a person to share my world?
Am I hoping for that fairy tale ending? The knight to ride in, sweep me off my feet and bring me the stability I often crave?
No.
I’ve learned to love my state of independence too much.
My decisions are my own. My life made up of my choices.
I date because it makes me uncomfortable.
I date because I can learn more about who I am when I examine myself through the lens of another.
I date because God called me to live in community with others and the most intimate form of community is partnership and marriage.
I don’t know what the plan is for my next years on this earth.
I imagine there will be some heartache. I guarantee I will face down fears.
Ultimately it is not in my hands who does or does not walk this road with me.
I may not know what lies ahead, but I believe I am up to the challenge.
People frequently shrink from conversations about religion.
What one believes or doesn’t is not often discussed in public places.
How does a person in search of a religion then navigate the road?
We take tentative steps to inquire of those we know. We find other seekers who help to guide the way.
Soon months turn into years and we wonder if in the waiting for a sign we have found our sign.
On a quiet Sunday morning, with heads bowed in prayer, we finally decide that this place doesn’t just feel like home, it is home.
It doesn’t matter that we weren’t born of this tradition.
In this place we find beauty in the ritual; a comfort lines our hearts.
Faith is an act.
To live out the act we believe we must find the community to support us,
and so we have.
The journey is over, but the searching will never be complete.
This church is now the guide.
Dear Audrey,
There is joy in your heart and beauty in your soul.
You are a pleasure to parent and a gift to those who have you in their lives.
You radiate love.
I have no reservation, no doubt, that you will do incredible good in your lifetime.
Nine years into your journey and you have already made a mark.
I remember the overwhelming sense of gratitude I felt in the moments and days after your birth.
My big, beautiful, healthy baby that slept through the night immediately and snuggled like no one ever snuggled before.
You are heading into a new year, a new opportunity for growth and change.
But let’s not lose sight of what makes you, you.
Your love of adventure (we made some great memories last year);
your desire to do good;
And your faithfulness to your friends, your family and your God.
I am excited to walk with you through this next year!
I promise more adventure and more magic.
Happy Birthday Audrey Hope.
You truly are extraordinary.
All my love,
Momma
P.S. This year’s song captures your energy. When we all heard it we knew it had to be yours:
We know.
The soul it knows the way in which it must go.
Yet we spend hours, days, months looking for alternative routes.
Until that moment, on a walk through the woods at the start of a new year, when we look around and see the path clearly.
In that moment you make a promise.
You will listen sooner next time.
A Joyful Life 