The clouds drift in the sky
d
r
i
f
t

blows, blowing, blown

Colors of the sky peek through the hole
brought about by the frozen touch
the supercooled vapor

of the icy stare
the words spoken too soon
the vapid look
the empty touch
the icy breath
the shadow of nothingness
collecting memories undesired
leaving a hole in the whispy clarity that
was my heart

11 February 2009

Similar to a canned fruit, a veggie, or a mix like apple butter - you are under pressure...
Sealed for protection, but the seal also keeps in the flavor, aroma, the pleasure of who you really are
When the seal is broken, there is a pop but what is to follow - bubbly or sour, smooth or exploding .....
Contents under pressure

Emptying the nest

So we're headed down the highway toward my daughter's campus, the cars packed with what seems like everything she has ever owned. I have no idea how she is going to store all this in a tiny dorm room. To be sure she will ask us to bring some of it home. No, she won't want us around long enough to know what she might want taken home. We'll probably get her stuff to her room and trip over the last load as she says goodbye to us. On the radio is "her music" but she is starting to drift off to sleep on our long, tiring, 1 hour, 45 minute drive. She must be exhausted. I know she was up late packing even though I had told her to start early. I rest my hand on her leg and wake her. She apologizes for falling asleep, but I quickly tell her it's fine, to please rest, and ask if it is okay for my hand to stay there or if it is bothering her. She leaves it there. I can't even remember the last time she sat next to me long enough for me to put my hand on her leg. I am loving it! I'm quite proud of myself too, that I haven't had any crying jags today. Okay, I did cry last night when I was writing in a book I put in the Vera Bradley bag we are leaving with her as a surprise. Along with the book is some lotion, a first grade pencil like the one my daddy gave me when I went to college, and a wooden snake - a joke from way back when she was only 3 years old. I am hoping the bag will be found long after we're gone and it make her smile and realize how much we love her, how excited we are for what she is facing, and how much we will miss her and the days we have been blessed to have with her. We are SO blessed. So I am driving along and feeling pretty good. All of a sudden I notice the song on the radio, her music, is none other than the Colby Callait tune I have set as her ring tone. The tears start rolling down my cheeks - just softly, small tears, but I am having to hold back real crying. Then she grabs my hand - she wasn't sleeping or at least she awakened to hear the music, and she grabbed my hand. That did it - full blown crying now. I am still trying to make sure she doesn't see it, but I think it's too late. I assure her I am fine - just overcome with emotion. I think the remaining 45 miles were covered within the 4 minutes of that song. Before I knew it we were at her dorm. I barely got out of the car before the people there to help had both cars unloaded, all her stuff in the elevator, and my husband looked at me and said, "I'll move both cars. Go on up to her room."

Her roommate was there already. She had been worried about how they would get along for a while now - since they had differed on how to place the beds and if she acquiesced about bunking them, who would get the top, which she did NOT want. We got her bed the way she wanted and asked if she wanted us to put the sheets on it. "Oh yes, please," she replied. In fact she wanted us to help get the computer connected, take her to Target to get some things, hang clothes in the closet, the shower curtain on the rod, and help put things in new places. She wanted our help setting up her new home. I had not expected this at all. When we took her brother 3 years ago, we got all his stuff to his room, made sure he had what he needed to connect the computer and his roommate's TV, bought him a carpet, then left - or at least that is how it seems. I wish I had written then as I am now. Perhaps I will keep this memory fresh because of writing. But memories fade just as the moments with her seemed to fade all too quickly - though they lasted longer than we'd thought they would. Finally it was time to go. We left her with kisses and hugs, carefully hid the bag of goodies on the bed behind one of the many decorative pillows, and made our way to the cars for the ride home. I was dreading the ride back, certain it would seem extremely long through my tears and all the things I would be thinking about what she would face this year. I opened my door, sat down, told my husband I'd follow him, and looked over to see my son hopping in on the other side! One child was leaving home but the other hopped in next to me. It certainly made the ride back very pleasurable! We laughed and talked about what his freshman year had been like. What she might do tonight or in the coming weeks filled the 4 minutes it seemed to take to get home. Four days later, he moved back to campus. I find myself longing to hear the cell phone ring - no matter which ringtone, his or hers, and I smile at the music, let it play just a little longer than I might have before they were gone, and realize life is as it should be. Our job was to raise them to be independent and able to stand on their own as they answer God's call on their lives. They are just about there, and they still call Mom.

Summer passes much too quickly. Who says teachers get June, July, and August off???? I am so torn as a mom - my last summer with my daughter before she goes to college, and I feel like I am leaving her since I have to go back to work before she leaves. I want to spend time with her, but I also want to get my classroom and lesson plans ready. It is hard to be a mom!

I was able to spend a few days with a very dear friend last week at her friend's family beach cottage on the coast of North Carolina. It was a very spontaneous, last minute trip. Women need to be able to get away like that and need good women friends with whom they can share about anything and everything. Listening to her woes of motherhood as well as the joys she shared, I realized my own situation is not only different in terms of what is going on but very different in scale. While the differences do not make either any easier or harder with which to deal, it is reassuring to know God does not give us more than we can handle. That He is determining what can be handled is also reassuring.

It is equally amazing to me how children born of the same mother and raised in the same household with the same expectations can be so vastly different - goes back to the age old question of nurture versus nature. I was reminded of these differences not only through our conversations about our daughters but also through our walks along the beach viewing not only other mothers and daughters but also the shells chosen or discarded. While I might pick up one shell appearing quite plain colored to my friend, I would be quick to point out the intricate detail of the edge or the flecks of blue or green she had not noticed. She in turn might pick up what she thought was the perfect shell only to discard it when she noticed a crack or hole, but I might pick it up at that point realizing the hole won't be seen once it holds a votive or is glued to a picture frame with other shells overlapping it. In fact a hole may be the perfect place to put the eyeliner brush while it is sitting on my counter top. There is not one too plain or broken to use in some way.

While I can find uses for a shell some may find undesirable or beauty in something so obviously plain, I must also remember the beauty found in the process of sanctification. While mothering a teen daughter brings its instances of angst, pain, or frustration, I must remember the beauty in knowing God is still working on her. He never gives up, nor must I. She is too beautiful and being made more so by Him each day. She brings me joy and laughter too - just like finding the imperfectly perfect shell. And He will use her much like I find a use for each shell I choose. He chose us and chose me to be her mom - there is beauty in His perfect plan!

Waiting it out...

Three ugly words.

A glimpse of what is to come

Silence. Only one bathroom in use. No iPods blaring upstairs. No other laptop in use in the den. Nobody asking if I can take him or her somewhere. Nobody asking permission to go anywhere. Only one TV on and only when I want it on. Nobody moping around the house. No reminders to go feed your dog. Nobody crying over a fight with a boyfriend. No music blaring on the driveway or scent of suntan lotion when I walk out the front door.

Come August this will be every day...