My Joyful Mysteries, and A Revolution of Real

I’m getting better at being brave. I’m trying new things. Everyday I’m getting better at filtering out the unnecessary and living in the moment. 

But this…this is still the best job I’ve ever been given.  

 
It is an honor to be called Mom. And being this magical girl and her brothers Mom is a gift I will never ever take for granted. 

Today was a stand on the cracks day. 

A day where I feel like I’m frozen in the center of an icy pond waiting…will the cracks spread and branch out like fingers- reaching, opening up and swallow me. 

Swallowing me into the too busy-too much-too hard cold water. Or will it stay firm? Will I stay steady even though my feet slip, even though I’m afraid. 

Today was a day where I’m on the edge. Am I really here? Do I even belong here? 

Now I’ll have two in middle school?! 

And I don’t even know whose classes my little kids will be in? Am I the only person who stresses about this stuff? 

Another call out? On this week? 

Also…

How in hell did I get a teenager?! 

I feel emptied from so many conflicting emotions. I feel exhausted from parenting. I feel drained from the balance between wanting to belong and wondering where my place is. I had to set boundaries and couldn’t make everyone happy. 

But here I stand- on a stand on cracks sort of day. 

Today was hard. 

Tomorrow will be better. 

And God is good. 

My Mother has blue sapphire eyes. She has a mole in between her eye brows- as a child I was fascinated with it. She can wear her hair long or short, she has the shape of face that can do both. She has strong hands- hands that have played the piano for years, hands that have held onto children and carried babies. She is tiny- has tiny feet, a tiny body, and a tiny nose. Except for her eyes- her eyes are big and stand out. 

My Mother had six of us. I was the third. She was a young Mom. She had braces when I was a toddler. She went back to school when I was four, with four young children at home. She became a teacher. She started as a music teacher and had productions like nothing I’ve ever seen. Later she had my two little sisters and went back to school to become a counselor. 

My Mother has the patience of a saint. She has a look that will make you stop in your tracks. She has a soft voice, and a strong laugh. She taught me how to sing, and the nights I’ve slept best are the nights she was playing the piano as I was falling asleep. 

My Mother taught me about hope. She taught me about not giving up on people. She taught me about believing in miracles. She taught me about believing God- every day. 

My Mother is kind. She fights for the underdog. She always has. She is meek until you mess with her kids. She taught me how to stick up for myself. She taught me to be appreciative. She taught me about unconditional love. 

My Mother loved me as a teenager…in my green haired Lolapalooza Grunge Phase. She encouraged my theatre. She was my first audience, and clapped the loudest. We got our noses pierced on Mothers Day one year- proving she is the coolest mother out there. 

  
My Mother taught me about charity. We gave Christmas to a beloved family with nothing, in a childhood where we didn’t have a lot. I became rich from learning about the importance of helping others. 

My Mother told me I was a writer, before I knew I could write. She kept every poem I wrote. Every story. She listened to every comedy routine I came up with. She laughed even when I wasn’t funny. She believed in me when teachers didn’t, when I didn’t.  
 She wasn’t perfect. She was always the first to apologize. She taught me how to forgive. 

I’m like my Mother. I cry when I’m angry. I make birthdays special. I love my children fiercely, as individuals. My mother taught me that every person has beautiful gifts and we need to celebrate them. 

My Mother taught me how to listen. She taught me to be aware of others feelings. She taught me compassion. She taught me it wasn’t just about me and the best gift I can give is by just being present. 

 My Mother will tell you she made a lot of mistakes. She’ll tell you she could have done better. I got that trait too…but mark my words- I was led by an amazing example. Not a perfect example…but an example that taught me love.

The kind of Love that doesn’t give up on a person. The sort of Love that fights in little and big ways. The sort of Love that believes  in the power of the human spirit. The sort of Love that celebrates the individual. 

Today is the day my Mother was born. Today is the day where she entered the world and started changing it. Not for glory, but the good of it. She is the first person I met- and she has always been there for me.  

 My daughter looks exactly like her. It was one of the greatest gifts God gave me, a little girl with my Mothers Face. A little girl who started changing the world since the day she was a heartbeat in my belly. 

So here’s to you…my beautiful beautiful Mother. Thank you for teaching me so very much, and loving me so very well…just thank…you. I love you. 

Happy Birthday. 

You are so loved. 

Have I told you we live in the best neighborhood in the world? 

We do. Neighbors talk to eachother. We have BBQ’s together. We watch out for each other. 

In the past few months our neighborhood has gotten even better. Jonah’s best friend moved across the street. And their family is one of our best family friends. We prayed so hard for them to be here- and now they are. 

One of the homes in our cul-de-sac just went up for sale. The women in our neighborhood are going to pray together for our new neighbors, because we’re kind of a family. 

We love children. And animals. And family. 

But right now there’s a war. 

A nerf war. A make believe war of weapons made out of scooter handles and flowers from my hanging plant. 

Kids are huddled behind my bushes. One is humming around the corner loading his orange bullets.

The boys don’t think… they just go for it. Though one did take the time to put a mustache on with a red pen. 

The girls… they spend a lot of time planning. Their names- Flower Rose, Maleficant’s Daughter, and my daughter- Kitty-Flower-Patch-the-Spy. There is just a lot of talking going on with these girls. 

The girls keep saying “I’m going to destroy your defeat.” But so far they just keep talking…the boys have attacked them multiple times. 

And I just sit here drinking my Diet Dr Pepper.

I am a safe zone. 

And I can’t stop giggling. The world is too heavy today. I feel safe on my front porch listening to their laughter. 

Love these kids. Love this neighborhood. 

Love is a battlefield- so love with all you’ve got. 

I will not succumb to Fall. I will cling tight to the vitamin D goodness floating in the sky. I will sit out here as my kids splash in their little pool- and I will enjoy these minutes of Summer. 

My love will BBQ, and we will eat squash and grape tomatos from our neighbors garden. I will wear flip flops, and hold my daughter right out of the water, little droplets resting on her shoulders- her tan skin smelling of sun screen and  grape Popsicles. 

I will take my son to soccer, but I won’t talk about school. Not yet. Middle school is not here yet. Instead I will watch him run under the summer sun. 

I won’t stress that’s it only one year until the teenager is in high school. I won’t stress about homework and school fees. I will relish the moments when he comes and talks to us in our room, long after his siblings dream. 

I will watch him shoot baskets with his best friend under the street lights long after the sun has gone down. 

It’s still our summer. 

I will never be a Mom who celebrates the end of this season. I hate sharing my kids. I always have.  

This season is only so many days, and I will not wish the end sooner. I will look at others first day photos, but will cling to the knowledge that we aren’t there yet. We are still in summer. 

I will run errands with my kids. They will still stay up late. I will let them sleep in. I will let Grace wear makeup with her swimsuit, and her little heels, and dance until her hearts content. Micah hasn’t worn a shirt yet. I will miss workouts to spend time with them, and we will eat lunch at 3 pm. 

Pumpkins and leaves can change soon enough. But me? I am sitting in the sun. 

It’s not fall here. 

I won’t rush time, it’s already passing fast enough. 

I. Love. Summer. 

the last couple days have been filled with happy busy. 

the kind of busy you hug close and enjoy the seconds that pass.

but in the busy you hold people a little longer, because you want to remember this part of life. 

i’m savoring life…right now. because it’s full of good fruit. happiness. love. joy. 

familia. 

  
A good day. 

Today I was absolutely floored when my phone rang at about 3 pm and I saw the teenagers name light up. 

I answered it- and this deep voice asked me to come and pick him up. He was done with his run. The voice on the other end called me Mom. 

It didn’t sound like my son. 

It sounded like almost a man. 

When I told the Voice, your voice sounds deeper, he laughed and it didn’t crack. 

Uh-oh. 

So I came home and sat in a short spot of denial. But then the voice came in and started talking to me. 

When he talks I always listen. As we talked about his day he shared a lot…but one thing he said stood out to me. 

He said in an almost nonchalant way, “my friends never save me a seat.” 

I asked him what he meant and he said there was no room at their table so he sat with different friends. He didn’t sound upset but I could tell he was thinking about it. 

And then the light bulb went on. 

This is why it’s so important to listen because sometimes there are words that are not being said. 

Like “I always save seats.” 

You see yes, he’s changing. He’s taller than me. His voice has been taken over by some almost man. And many days he prefers to be with his friends. 

But that is not him. Those changes don’t define him- they are just a part of growing up. Who he is, is exactly the same person I’ve seen in him since he was a baby. 

A good soul. A sweet soul. 

And as he grew- A considerate soul. My Jonah is one of the most considerate people I’ve ever met. 

We are entering the age of making the team- making the grade- making the future. He knows how many days until he can get his driving permit. We are already talking about High School a year away, and what the next step is. All this along with heartache and hormones…and that’s just his Mother. 

But the person, he is still so considerate. 

I remember in second grade it started. He was always the last person out. Grace would need to nurse and I’d be engorged and all the other kids would come out. Eventually he would get to the car…months into it I asked why he was always the last. I thought maybe he’d gotten into the pattern of using the bathroom, or forgetting his lunch and jacket. But No…that wasn’t it. 

He was holding the door- that entire time, for everyone. 

He wore his heart on his sleeve as he would  cry and tell me when kids were being bullied. And then it took four months for him to tell me he was being bullied, by an adult. 

He thought older. But he was still little. 

Twice he has helped people who have been on crutches for months at a time to classes. One of them I didn’t find out for a long time about, until one of his friends told me.  When I asked him about it he shrugged and said it was the right thing to do. 

Another time he was worried about a friend and came to me. I was able to to talk to the friends “adult” and his loyalty and courage was noticed by all of us- because it was a hard conversation. 

He will never win an award for kindness. He isn’t noticed for the little things he does. Because he does them quietly. I’ve never heard him ask for ackowledgement. He is considerate in the most quiet way…asking an adult how they are doing. Noticing the person lagging behind. Being there for his friends. He even has a little of my grudge against technology and is determined not to be glued to a screen the entire time he’s with other people. 

By no means is he perfect. When he gets angry or hurt he can hold a grudge for a long time. When he decides he doesn’t like someone, he commits to that. He talks back sometimes. He can be impatient with his siblings. And he has figured out if he plays piano for a long time he has less chores. 

But all of us have faults. 

I’m just so blessed by his heart. It really is so good. 

I asked him at dinner if it hurt his feelings that there wasn’t a seat at the table and he said “It’s not a big deal Mom. I found another seat. I wouldn’t want my friends to feel bad.” And I agreed with him. He has good friends, amazing kids and I know they love him. Sometimes a table fills quickly Jonah knows that. I know that. 

So I told him I’d always save a seat for him. And he said he knew that. And he hugged me after dinner, this tall person. And the voice didn’t sound like an almost man, it sounded like Jonah. 

My Jonah. In case you can’t tell I’m super proud of him.  

Ps. I got his permission to write about him. I think he thought it was a little silly to write about him. 
 

This week the theme at work was knowing your own super-strength. The character strength that can get you through the hard days, when the kryptonite of negativity and our own worst self creeps up and tells us we aren’t strong enough. We aren’t good enough. 

We aren’t enough. 

A year ago. I would’ve sided with the Kryptonite. I had gotten used to its lime glow- it’s numbness. 

But not today. Not ever again. 

I put on my Super Hero Tee Shirt. I lined my lips with Red. And I owned my shit. 

Sure, I’ve got weakness. A lot. 

But I’ve got God.

I have joy and depth. I have laughter and I am strong. Stronger than I ever thought I could be.  I love more than I ever imagined I could. I’ve got enough.

And I married a real life super hero…so really, It’s kind of like a Movie. 

Only Real.

“Mommy, can I climb the rope to the top?” 

“It’s too high Curly, maybe next time.” 

The rope going up a steep 100 ft lay there reminding me of all the reasons I said No…the way I held my breath my entire pregnancy with him. The nights I would wake up scared when he was an infant in the co-sleeper to wake him up, just to check if he was breathing. 

“Please Please Mommy, I know I’m old enough. Strong enough.” 

“I know you’re strong enough but it’s so high buddy. I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

The nights I sat for hours in the ER as croup stole his breath and turned him blue. The cancer scare we had with him when he had a strange growth on his leg. 

“I am Strong enough. I just know it.” 

He learned to ride his bike almost instantly. He never stays in a bad mood. He is an absolute joy to take places, and can fall asleep anywhere. 

He laughs with his whole soul. He is so introverted but at home he is open and warm and the most loving person I’ve ever known. 

I have always considered his life a gift. A gift I am cautious with. Because he has always been such a joy, such a love. 

“Please Please…it’s all I ever wanted to do!” 

“Your Dad just got down. Your brothers didn’t go up…but you can ask him.” 

“Dad, can I please please try the rope to the top? I just know I can get there.” 

“Sure buddy.” 

I give the look, and He gives me the “trust me” look back. I didn’t know if it meant he’d get spooked and stop or that he would let him go ahead…

And I watched. In the two seconds it took for us to exchange the look- Micah didn’t miss a beat. He grabbed the rope and went.

Hand over hand, as my heart thumped and I held my breathe. He climbed. 
 He looked back when he was close the top. And looked so brave. So strong. Not scared. 
Meanwhile his Dad began to climb behind him. As I watched my little heart climb because he just knew he was strong enough. Big enough. Brave enough. 

Suddenly He was at the top. And his Dad joined him. And they gave a victorious wave as Curly yelled to us, “And now I’m a Man.”  

And we laughed and hollered with him. 

   
And then they began the climb down. Slow and steady. I began to exhale and realized my heart wasn’t beating so hard, and I was smiling. He was okay. 

Everything is okay.  

 
And then they were back. And He ran to me his face filled with happiness and brave, joy and strong.

“Did you see me Mommy? Did you see how strong I am?” 

“I saw you Micah. You are so amazing!” 

“I knew Dad would come behind me, but I wanted a good start. It was easy going up, but really hard coming down.”

“Funny, I was more worried about you going up.”

And then he laughed, and hugged me tight, and my heart grew a million sizes once again. 

My sweet boy. My brave boy. My big boy. You are more than just enough of all those things… 

 
My Micah.