Laundry Love

When I was in my last trimester of pregnancy with Patch, I was very sick. It was initially very confusing to the doctors as to what was going on, and as a result I was misdiagnosed and mistreated for nearly a month. The result was several hospital stays and near confinement to my bedroom. I was so very scared for myself as well as for my little unborn baby.

During my illness, even the simplest of tasks felt impossible. I was unable to read a magazine, follow a television show or even take a shower without having Tucker close by. I was a wreck and I just kept getting worse.

Several weeks into my illness, Janet called to see how everything was going. Because she is six hours away and I had not felt well enough to call, she had been completely unaware of what was going on. Tucker filled her in the best he could with the information we had at the time. Anytime she called in the coming weeks, I was too ill to talk and the news was always worse than the time before.

After Patch was born, I received a correct diagnosis immediately by my general practitioner. Within a week or two I was beginning to recover and finally felt well enough to call my dear friend and fill her in on what I had been through the past couple of months. It was a tough conversation to have because the experience had been so painful. She listened as I cried my way from beginning to end., and then she said something that I have held close to my heart since that day. She had spoken of how she knew there was a problem when she had stopped hearing from me and how worried she had been. Then, one day she had a dream. She dreamt that I was sitting on the sofa and she came and dumped a load of freshly laundered towels, straight out of the dryer on me. She said when she awoke, she knew that I was going to be okay, because the feeling of fresh, warm laundry was such a good feeling.

I am not exactly sure why, but that imagery has meant so much to me since the day she shared it with me. It makes me feel loved and nurtured. It is such a simple image, but so comforting. I have called on that image several times in the last three and half years. Anytime I am feeling a little lonely or down or overwhelmed, I imagine my friend smiling at me and covering me with warm, soft laundry, and I can almost smell it in my mind. Instantly I am calmer.

Today, while pulling laundry out of the dryer, I was reminded of Janet and her love. Six hours away, but I felt as though she was in the room with me. And I smiled. I love her and I miss her, but there is always laundry.

My Love is a Fire

I am a moody person. No, really, it's true. Back "in the day" I saw my moodiness as a really cool gateway into the world of everything artistic. I tried to channel all of those youthful feelings of angst into radical enlightenment. That's right, dude, life was way groovy. I could sit in my bed room for days and listen to the same Dead Cd over and over again and feel hypnotized and euphoric. It was a drugless high and I was an addict.


I really do miss those moments of being completely lost in the moment; being able to get so enraptured by something that the rest of the world ceases to exist for a little while. Recognizing how much I sound like a whacked out drug addict at this moment, I digress.

On occasion I still can get in a music fog like I once did, but never anywhere near as heady. It's hard to really have music envelop your heart and soul when at the same time you have someone in one direction yelling to have his bottom wiped while in the other direction a wrestling match over the remote control is underway. All the while the phone is ringing.
"Come here, Uncle John's Band..." yeh, it's good but let's face it- it's not the same.

I'm okay with not be a transcendental hippie anymore. Really, I am. I know there comes a time when actually "dealing" with problems, opposed to brooding over them is a more appropriate response. I can reach truth without hours of monotonous stereo play. It comes in different ways now. But, I still miss those days of endless heartfelt deliberations.

A little over a year ago Tucker and Jim built a fire pit in the backyard. You see, Janet is an absolute fire genius and my kids and I always marvel at how she can make flames come from just about nothing. In fact, I believe I once overheard one of my children telling a friend, "My Aunt Janet breathes fire." Anyway, it was a spur of the moment decision one day, that the men would take some extra brick we had lying around and try and dig out a little pit. That night we had an outdoor fire. It was spectacular!

Over the course of the past year we have used that pit more than I think anyone expected. When we have something to celebrate- let's drink beer around the fire, company in town- we should have a fire, day off from school- let's roast marshmallows by the fire...and so it goes.

I have come to realize that that impromptu fire pit has become an outlet for me much in the same way that music was all those years ago. I tenderly build a strong base in which to begin the fire, I nurture the flames by adding wood or straw, I blow from underneath the flames to keep the oxygen circulating, and I get extremely defensive and protective when anyone steps up to "really get it going." And let me tell you- Everyone seems to think they are experts in fire building. Everyone. Usually I quietly take a backseat until they reduce my fire to a pile of smoldering logs, and then I gladly reclaim my position as fire monitor.

I can sit by the fire for hours. And I mean hours. I could do nothing all day, but tend to the fire and watch as the flames dance in the air. I inhale deeply as I breathe in the smokey outside air, convinced that somehow I am breathing in rejuvenating magic. And I sit, and I sit, and I sit. If there is someone out there for me to talk to, I will. And usually the conversations are honest and open and important, as if that is all that can exist around my sacred place. If I am alone, then I am happy alone; out there just me and the fire.

I can't believe of all things in my life that would bring me to a place of peace and reflection that makeshift pit in the yard would be the one. But it has.
And I am so very thankful.

Thank God

We were lucky enough to host the Connors again this year for Thanksgiving. It has become quite a nice tradition between the two families. The kids have literally grown up with one another so the relationships among all of them are very easy going. Every year these few days prove to be fun and relaxing for everyone.
It really is something how the Lord works. We say it all of the time, but when you slow WAY down to think about it, it really is just amazing. Janet and I really became "friends by accident." I'm sure when we met neither of us would have expected traveling hours to share Thanksgiving together, but... We are all very different people, but we honor those differences in one another and have developed close bonds because of it. Janet, to me, has become somewhat of a lighthouse. When I feel lost at sea, she has a way of bringing me back. Most of the time, I am sure she doesn't even know it.
So here is where the Lord comes in. It has been a very hard few months. There have been a lot of constant, little stresses. Just when I felt like I was getting my head above water, a wave would come and knock me back down. By the time the Thanksgiving holiday rolled around, I was wiped out. Having my friends visit really was what I needed. It really is funny. I look back on that week and try to gather what it was that really made the difference for me. Of course, not going to work and drinking a lot of beer helped, but it was just the friendship; knowing that I could eat pumpkin pie in pajamas for breakfast and that my friend would be doing the same, being able to sit in the den and knowing I didn't have to "entertain," watching my children snuggle up to their 'Aunt Janet' and 'Uncle Jimmy,' being able to look at little Sarah and Nate and still remember the moments I found out their momma was carrying them, staying up late and playing games...it just goes on. 13 years ago the Lord knew that these two families were going to be important for each other. He put us in each other's path so we could enrich our lives. It is so nice to realize that even though we may not have a clue what we are doing in our own lives, He is guiding us. He is sending us what we need to get through each day. It may come in the form of friends. It may come in the form of health. It may come in the form of wisdom. But he is looking after us, and making sure we are taken care of. I think, that that is what I am most thankful for this holiday season.

Growing Branches

I grew up knowing that my Aunt Dale and Uncle Charlie were not "real" family. They were my parents' best friends, and thus became family by default. They loved us, as my parents loved their children and the fact that we didn't share a blood line was very inconsequential. I always wondered if I would ever have a friendship so deep, that the family tree would grow extra branches to accommodate it.
I met Janet the summer I was pregnant with Emily. I had just been married and was working at a facility for disabled children. I was assigned to be a 1:1 teacher to a severe and profound disabled boy named Russell. My duties were to adapt the regular program activities in a way that was meaningful to him. There was only one other child in our small group who was in a wheelchair. He was much higher functioning than Russell, but had cerebral palsy and was deaf. Although he could operate his wheelchair himself, he required a sign language interpreter at all times. Janet was hired to interpret for Chris two days a week.
It was a friendship that happened out of sheer necessity. The other employees in our small group were a couple of dim-witted, flirty college-kids. They knew everything about nothing, so it seemed, and tended to pay more attention to each other than the children we were charged to take care of. Janet and I quickly developed a camaraderie and it instantly seemed like we had known each other forever. With wheelchairs in tow, we always brought up the rear, talking about her upcoming wedding, or my impending childbirth, or music or college or whatever. We never had a moment of silence between the two of us. It was just so comfortable and easy.
When our stint at the center was done we had a dinner or two together before she was married in September and moved to Texas. We exchanged all the pertinent information to stay in touch and that was it. She was just a girl I knew for 2 days a week for 7 weeks. It was nice knowing her, but that was that.
I sent her an announcement when Emily was born and she sent me a gift. It was nice to have had a little contact, but mostly it was just a Christmas card here or there.
It was within a year or two that Janet and Jimmy moved back to Charlotte. They called us and we had them over for dinner. It was so nice to have reconnected. Slowly that connection got stronger and stronger. In 2001 Janet and I had babies "together." She always has said I got pregnant with Elizabeth so that her little Sarah would have a friend. It was soon after the birth of the girls that we began taking family trips together. I had Janet, Tucker and Jimmy were becoming great friends, and now our girls had each other.
It was somewhere along the way, and I'm not exactly sure where, that they became Aunt Janet and Uncle Jimmy. It is certainly not what I had ever expected when we were wheeling our little friends around the center that summer.
My kids have never known life without them and hopefully never will. Our tree, had indeed grown that special branch reserved for "chosen" members of the family.
We now live six hours apart. Somehow, though, the distance has only enhanced our relationship. We know that when we are together it is because both sides really wanted it to happen. When Tucker's mother died, none of my family made it down. Our dear friends made what amounted to a 12 hour trip so that they could be with us for 2 hours. During that week of sadness and heartache, nothing touched Tucker or I more than that act of love.
I am so very thankful to have these people in my life. We have seen each other through many a bumpy road, but have had our share of laughs along the way. There is an unspoken knowledge, among all of us, that we ARE family. Not the kind of family that grows out of years of lineage and DNA and genetics, but a family that is born out of the simple knowledge that we are loved.