I read and walked for miles at night along the beach,
writing bad blank verse and searching endlessly
for someone wonderful who would step out
of the darkness and change my life.
It never crossed my mind that that person could be me.
Postcards From a Thriver
6
Nov 13
Changing Her Own Life
4
Nov 13
“I Like It When You …”
“I like it when you go outside to do your extroverting when you can see that Jen needs to introvert.”
“I like it when you engage with Will when you’d rather be introverting.”
“I like it when I tell you guys that I need help, and you willingly unload the dishwasher or fold the clothes and put them away.”
“I like it when all three of us want to turn off the electronics and talk about the weird dreams we had last night, and neither one of you is itchin’ to get up and leave the room.” Continue reading →
7
Oct 13
The List of Lessons
She drew a thick black line down the center of a sheet of unlined paper. On the left she wrote the names of people she’s known. Some no longer played an active role in her life, and some impact her life on a daily basis. Some stand in the periphery. Others are knocking at her front door, and some sleep in the rooms at the back of her house.
They all carry clipboards full of notes.
A lot of the names appear on her Christmas card list. It might be the woman she’d had coffee with on a daily basis in college, but now she was hard-pressed to remember the woman’s adult children’s names. It might be the guy she’d lived with in college who made it hard for her to look her grandfather in the eye because of the whole “living in sin” thing.
The left column listed names of individuals – all of whom left a print on her life. Continue reading →
2
Oct 13
Autumn Harvest
Apple crisp with more crunchy topping than apples?
How about an apple pie with vanilla ice cream?
Maybe a pot of boiled, spiced apples – a chunky apple sauce – to serve with pork loin?
Or diced apples and cinnamon in oatmeal on a rainy fall morning?
I know! What about an apple cobbler drowned in heavy cream?
Or I could leave the apples in the bowl for a homeschool drawing/painting class.
Will came home with a grocery bag full of apples from the neighbor’s tree – an autumn harvest as partial payment for his weekly lawn care job.
Now we have to (get to) decide what to do with them.
Maybe we’ll eat them, one-by-one, just as they are.
If only all of life’s issues were this difficult.
30
Sep 13
Goodbye Summer
That went fast.
Remember when grownups would always say that time goes faster as you get older? Another summer has come and gone and I find myself wanting to acknowledge all the sweetness of summer before settling down to fall.
There were so many good parts:
flip-flop tans
iced-coffees on the back patio (Will learned to make ’em better than me) Continue reading →
27
Sep 13
A Thriver’s Perspective
“Geez, why can’t he drive himself to Driver’s Ed?” Jenny reaches over to turn up the radio.
“Well, yeah. That probably wouldn’t work. Thing is, life is kinda full of inconveniences. You can be annoyed by all of ’em, or you can decide to look at the little opportunities hiding in them.”
“What do you mean?”
We are sitting at a light that seems to be taking forever. “We have to do this twice a day – take Will to class and then pick him up an hour and a half later. We could choose to be cranky about it, but I like to think that it’s nice to have this car time. You know… we see how the rest of the world scurries from school to soccer to the grocery store and home. It makes me appreciate our unconventional life. Besides, we get to listen to music, sing, laugh and complain about never finding a good song on the radio when you want one.”
“Yeah, I guess I see what you mean.”
“Sorry about my singing.”
“You aren’t that bad, mom.”
“Maybe you should sing louder than me.”
At the next light I say, “You know, it’s kinda like the kitchen remodel. We can be annoyed at how inconvenient it is to cook or make a bowl of cereal, or even put water on for coffee. Or we can get excited about the process. I love that time when Will is at Driver’s Ed and you and I are listening to Pandora and painting. Those are gonna be great memories. And I love Will coming home and seeing what we’ve gotten done while he’s been away.”
“I guess. It’ll be nice when it’s done. But I do love the painting.”
“And what other mom decides to make biscuits from scratch during a kitchen remodel? I mean those moments make fun conversations.”
“Hey, I need the pastry blender.”
“Mom, I’ll get it.”
“Thanks, honey. It’s in my bedroom.”
From the bedroom, “Mom! What’s a pastry blender?”
Yelling back to the bedroom, “It’s the thing that looks kinda like a slinky with a wooden handle.”
“Got it!”
“See? We’d be missing out on all that fun, if we hadn’t undergone all this torture.”
“I think I get it. You have an interesting perspective, mom.”
16
Sep 13
Hope In A Jar
“Mom, what colors do you pick?”
“Um…. how about red, purple and turquoise.”
“Oh, that’ll be pretty. I’ll see if I can layer the beads in this little jar.” She makes a teensy funnel out of a scrap of paper.
“Okay! The beads are in, and they stayed in separate layers! Look! What do you want the label to say?”
“Well…. I’m not sure. How about, “Faith, Hope, Love.”
“I like that. I’ll have to write real tiny.” She cuts a thin strip of paper, just long enough for three words.
“Oh, Jenny! It’s beautiful! Thank you.”
As she sorts beads for the next jar she asks, “Where are you going to put it?”
“How about in a window where it can catch the sun?”
9
Sep 13
How To Paint Like an Extrovert
“Whoa cowboy! Slow down a bit. You’re getting the green on the ceiling.”
“Oh, sorry about that. This rolling is fun. Look how much you can get on the roller before you put it on the wall.” Will dunks the roller and I wince as he takes the roller from the tray to the wall.
“Yeah, it’s cool. If you go too fast, tho’, it’ll splatter all over the kitchen.” I stand at the ready with paper towels.
“K. But maybe if I do it thick enough, it’ll only take one* coat. Sorry about the ceiling.”
“That’s okay. It’s fixable, but we don’t wanna have to repaint the whole ceiling. Maybe you paint like an extrovert.”
“I know, right?”
Jenny walks over and asks for a little more paint. She takes the stir stick, dips it in the sage green and lets it run onto the lid of the paint can. “That should be enough.” She heads back to the corner of the kitchen where she creates a mermaid with steady, deliberate watercolor paintbrush strokes.
“I’m not gonna want to paint over her, Jen. She’s gorgeous.”
“That’s okay, mom. I’ll paint her again in my bedroom.”
“Maybe you paint like an introvert.”
“I know, right?”
*One coat of the sage green was enough to cover. :)
13
Aug 13
A Page From a Thriver’s Life
She sips coffee under the Sumacs (that he would never let her grow) while the cat (that he would not let her have) rubs against her ankles.
She has the whole glorious day ahead of her. She will skip breakfast if she wants. She’ll read, before chores, from a book that was on her own reading list.
She could fry up potatoes with onions and peppers and add too much cumin seed and spill too much salsa on too much cheese and not give a second thought to carbs.
She’ll walk when she wants, where she wants, for as long as she wants.
Or she won’t walk at all. Continue reading →
7
Aug 13
If No One Told You How To Create
If they didn’t tell you that you can’t make a tiny mermaid out of fabric, what would you create?
If they didn’t tell you that skies are always blue and trees are always green, how would you draw them?
If you hadn’t been force-fed their rules, how would you play the game?
2
Aug 13
On Self-Improvement
He’s running across the yard with a huge grin on his face. “Mom! It’s 20 yards from the road. I made it that far! Pretty soon I’ll be hitting the road.”
“Bud, that’s awesome! Ah…. you might have to find a new place to hit from. That could get ugly if you hit a car.”
“I know, but can we pace it off? Can we see how far I’m hitting ’em?”
I grab my coffee and he’s still holding on to his driver when we start counting our paces across the park. We walk over irrigation sprinklers that create patchworks of green on an otherwise brown landscape. We side-step thistle and the party favors left by the neighborhood dogs. I’m counting out loud as we go.
We get to his ball when I reach 238 paces. Continue reading →
13
Jul 13
Passion-Driven
I whisper as I nudge his shoulder, “It’s 6:30, honey, time to get up.”
He rolls over to pull the covers over one shoulder, “Okay. I’ll get up in a second.”
I walk out to the kitchen and put some water on to boil. It’s hard for me to be up this early on a Saturday. I don’t know how an almost 15 year old does it.
This is his fourth day in a row.
As I sprinkle coffee into the filter, I can hear rustling coming from his bedroom. I marvel at the fact that most days, I don’t have to nudge him more than once.
He’s got it down to a system. He gets his clubs ready the night before. He lays his clothes out, gathers his wallet, phone and golf journal. In the morning, he needs enough time to shower and get dressed. I can be seen following him around nagging him to take another bite of bagel or drink more water.
We get in the car and we are off.
Depending on whether he golfs 9 or 18 or 27, I won’t hear from him again until he calls to tell me he’s on the tee box of his last hole. This from the boy whose hip has been connected to mine for 15 years. This from the boy who likes to know where I am at all times.
Golfing is his passion. When he’s golfing, he is in his zone. (When he’s not on a course, he’s practicing his swing, Googling other golfers’ swings, learning about new equipment or making a tee time.)
When he’s in his element, he isn’t worrying about what I’m doing, what’s for dinner, whether he has disappointed his dad, or what his sister might be getting that he isn’t getting.
When he is in his zone, he is free to be who he is without the influences of his life.
Who wouldn’t get out of bed at 6:30 on a Saturday to get to a place where you can feel like that?
11
Jul 13
“There Might Be Mermaids!”
“There might be mermaids! Could there be? Why not?”
They’d been hiking around the park, hunting for grasshoppers. They kept hearing a whooshing sound. They gave up the hunt to follow the sound and discovered a mini waterfall spilling from the side of the hill.
They ran back down the hill to get me. “Mom! You’ve gotta see what we discovered! Come on!”
As we hiked the hill, I noticed the expanse of greener grass that had been watered by the spill. It spread down the hill like a lush blanket.
When we arrived at the point of discovery*, their imaginations took flight.
“Well there could be mermaids down there. The water is cool and clear. They like that kind of water.”
“Let’s call grandpa! He’s gotta see this!”
“There is so much water every where! Can this be our discovery?”
They were excited and pleased with what they hoped they were the first to see. They imagined all possible and impossible explanations.
We stood in the sun and watched the park drink up the sparkling pools of water.
For 60 minutes, I forgot about laundry, dirty dishes, weeds in the garden and to-do lists. For one whole lovely hour I was a kid who believed in the unbelievable.
There could be mermaids or pots of gold under rainbows or unicorns or charming princes.
There could be _________________________.
You fill in the blank with whatever it is that makes your day brighter – even if for only a minute.
*It turns out the source was a broken irrigation line, but it was fun imagining until reality set in.
Postcards From a Thriver is a new category on the blog.
Look for bright spots and examples of a thriving life.
16
May 11
A Charmed Life
The front door flew open. I looked up just in time to see him toss his helmet on the couch. “Mom! You got the house phone, right? Did dad call?”
“Not yet, Will. You sent a bunch of texts and a couple voice mails. He must be busy. He’ll get back to you.”
Against all odds, Will had invited his dad to check out the remaining snow on the ski hill. It was the sort of outing that Mark usually suggested, so there was a good chance he might consider going. In fact, Mark had said that it sounded like a good thing to do on a Sunday since he’d be done with work. Later, when Will realized what he was in for, he said, “What did I do that for? Why did I invite dad? I always think it sounds like a good idea, but it’s never that great when we actually go.”
That’s how it is for the child of a narcissist – they crave the attention of that narcissistic parent like any kid craves attention from a parent, only when they get the attention, they usually end up hurt, rejected or dismissed. Or, they get hurt when the parent doesn’t show up, even if there’s a sense of relief that they are spared another unpleasant visit. Continue reading →
29
Sep 10
Spirituality on a Road Trip
I had my finger on the button to take the 113th black and white of Devil’s Tower, when I heard a bossy voice say, “Here… give me your camera. I’ll get a shot of you and your kids.”
The universe holds a special place for total strangers who offer to take photos of single parents and their kids. Imagine shoe boxes filled with photos of sticky marshmallow faces, consecutive years of Christmas present openings, and the first days of school with the ghost of a parent appearing in only one out of every 43 pictures.
I look kindly on anyone who offers to snap a picture of the three of us.
Except this time. Continue reading →
