When I woke up this morning I did so with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. I was happy. Truly happy. I got busy with the hustle and bustle of the morning routine, but added "Put 'I love my little life!' on Facebook status" to my mental TO DO list.
Before I could get to it, I checked my email.
I should have gone to Facebook first.
My email contained some truly rotten news that rocked my world today. While I can't discuss it publicly, it's hard to leave the hurt alone. In true Evelyn-fashion I cried. A lot. As I cried I tried to figure out how to approach this new trial in our lives. Do I lay down and die? Do I run for the nearest chocolate store? Do I get angry? Do I burn a few bridges? Do I give up?
Yes...
No...
Maybe a little...
I can't quite decide. It's been a roller coaster day. A humbling day. I keep flitting between "MY LIFE IS OVER!" to "Maybe this could be a good thing" and back again. I can't quite decide how to feel about it.
A few things are certain though.
Life is going to be a little rocky for our family over the next several months.
And life will go on.
Back in April 2003 I recall a memory where I felt the same. I had just broken up with Joe (for the dozenth time and what I thought was "for good"). I had recently dropped out of college as I had been doing terribly in my classes. I had resigned myself to taking a break and working for a bit to save money. The next day I was fired from my job, a job I had had for a year and a half and one that I actually kind of enjoyed.
I thought my life was over. No job. No school. No boyfriend. No future.
Anyone care for a second serving of Humble Pie?
A week later (the future) I had a new dream job at the local Emergency Department and I was engaged to Joe. The opportunity to go back to school came later. Despite what I had thought a week before life did indeed go on and even get better. Better than what it had been only a mere week before.
You know that whole saying about "God closing doors and opening windows"? I'm hoping that still holds true like it did in April 2003.
So yes, I'm crying a lot today, but I'm also holding on to a shred of hope. My blog name is "Hanging by a Silver Lining" after all.
Showing posts with label optimism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label optimism. Show all posts
5.16.2011
Broken
phone (prayer, good luck charms, and a wish on a star is needed to keep it turned on)
computer (1 two year old + 1 full glass of water + 1 working laptop = 1 not-so-working laptop)
car (not really so much "broken" as "needs to be returned to missionary brother who is now home wanting his ride back")
right ear (has been ringing since I woke up this morning)
baby (breathing funny, double ear infections, and possible milk allergy)
diet (emotional eater much?)
recliner chair (but still comfy!)
budget (didn't plan for all of this)
plans (so much for that trip)
bank account (ouch.)
spirit (Anyone got a bandaid?)
Time to get busy fixing things!
10.18.2010
The Little Mother That Could
All morning I have been struggling to come up with anything to post here today. I finally conceded that it would be a no blog post kind of day. No big deal. I just didn't have the energy or mentality to think of anything creative or original or productive or humorous. Not because of a bad mood...just a too-tired mood.
I picked up Jeigh from preschool and before we left, my girls each checked out a book from the preschool library (basically a book shelf crammed with old discarded books). When I saw the book that Elle had picked, my heart cheered a bit.
The book was obviously aged and I loved that it was. This was a book my mother read to me when I was little. I remembered the pictures and the words so vividly as it was one she read to us often. It had been burned into my memories. I had just forgotten it had been stashed away in my memory until I saw the book in my two-year-old's hands.
We left the school and needing to be busy for the forty minutes in between pick up time for Jeigh and pick up time for Dee, we drove to a convenience store. With the way I had been feeling all morning, I felt the need for a little liquid courage to get through the rest of the day. Liquid courage meaning a tall, cold, fountain Dr. Pepper.
We drove back to the school and waited for the last bell of the day, sipping on our fountain drinks, hoping the caffeine would do the trick to shake me from my sluggish funk. I looked on the dash and saw the book. What a perfect time to sneak some of our reading minutes in. So I opened the cover and began to read.
As I read the words that were so familiar to my mind, I began to think this book could be just the trick for teaching my children that they can do hard things. Like picking up their backpacks and coats off the floor or eating onions or staying away from the tempting soap dispenser. Hard things like that.
But as I read the words I think I can-I think I can-I think I can my voice started to quiver and the words blurred as my eyes filled with tears. I hadn't remembered this book being a sad story...
I realized quite suddenly and with some shock it was me who needed the lesson. So many days, like today I feel...exhaustion. Most days, especially with pregnancy, I feel physically exhausted. Many days it's mental exhaustion that gets me. A lot of days I feel emotionally exhausted or spiritually exhausted. I find myself thinking and even verbalizing I can't do this!
I just can't. It's too much. I'm too tired. I can't do it right so why even try? What is the point?
I feel overwhelmed and under-qualified. I get bogged down with anger or sadness or despair. And my load might as well be a train that needs to be pulled over a hill.
As childish and simple as it sounds, I realized I need to be like the Little Blue Engine and hitch myself to my load.
She tugged and pulled and pulled and tugged and slowly, slowly, slowly they started off...
Puff, puff, chug, chug, went the Little Blue Engine.
"I think I can-I think I can-I think I can-I think I can-I think I can-I think I can-I think I can-I think I can-I think I can."
Up, up, up. Faster and faster and faster and faster the little engine climbed until I last they reached the top of the mountains.
I can do hard things.
Even when I don't think I can.
I can mother these three, almost four children like no one else can. I can tackle that project (or two) I have been putting off. I can forgive others for heart breaks they have caused. I can approach each day with purpose and passion.
I can push and pull and tug and I may go slowly, slowly, slowly at first but at least I am trying and moving forward.
Who knew a long forgotten children's book could put more pep in my step than 20 oz of caffeine?
Now, how to not forget this revelation I had today... Think Jeigh's preschool teacher would mind if I hung onto this book, just so I have a daily reminder???
I picked up Jeigh from preschool and before we left, my girls each checked out a book from the preschool library (basically a book shelf crammed with old discarded books). When I saw the book that Elle had picked, my heart cheered a bit.
The book was obviously aged and I loved that it was. This was a book my mother read to me when I was little. I remembered the pictures and the words so vividly as it was one she read to us often. It had been burned into my memories. I had just forgotten it had been stashed away in my memory until I saw the book in my two-year-old's hands.
We left the school and needing to be busy for the forty minutes in between pick up time for Jeigh and pick up time for Dee, we drove to a convenience store. With the way I had been feeling all morning, I felt the need for a little liquid courage to get through the rest of the day. Liquid courage meaning a tall, cold, fountain Dr. Pepper.
We drove back to the school and waited for the last bell of the day, sipping on our fountain drinks, hoping the caffeine would do the trick to shake me from my sluggish funk. I looked on the dash and saw the book. What a perfect time to sneak some of our reading minutes in. So I opened the cover and began to read.
As I read the words that were so familiar to my mind, I began to think this book could be just the trick for teaching my children that they can do hard things. Like picking up their backpacks and coats off the floor or eating onions or staying away from the tempting soap dispenser. Hard things like that.
But as I read the words I think I can-I think I can-I think I can my voice started to quiver and the words blurred as my eyes filled with tears. I hadn't remembered this book being a sad story...
I realized quite suddenly and with some shock it was me who needed the lesson. So many days, like today I feel...exhaustion. Most days, especially with pregnancy, I feel physically exhausted. Many days it's mental exhaustion that gets me. A lot of days I feel emotionally exhausted or spiritually exhausted. I find myself thinking and even verbalizing I can't do this!
I just can't. It's too much. I'm too tired. I can't do it right so why even try? What is the point?
I feel overwhelmed and under-qualified. I get bogged down with anger or sadness or despair. And my load might as well be a train that needs to be pulled over a hill.
As childish and simple as it sounds, I realized I need to be like the Little Blue Engine and hitch myself to my load.
She tugged and pulled and pulled and tugged and slowly, slowly, slowly they started off...
Puff, puff, chug, chug, went the Little Blue Engine.
"I think I can-I think I can-I think I can-I think I can-I think I can-I think I can-I think I can-I think I can-I think I can."
Up, up, up. Faster and faster and faster and faster the little engine climbed until I last they reached the top of the mountains.
I can do hard things.
Even when I don't think I can.
I can mother these three, almost four children like no one else can. I can tackle that project (or two) I have been putting off. I can forgive others for heart breaks they have caused. I can approach each day with purpose and passion.
I can push and pull and tug and I may go slowly, slowly, slowly at first but at least I am trying and moving forward.
Who knew a long forgotten children's book could put more pep in my step than 20 oz of caffeine?
Now, how to not forget this revelation I had today... Think Jeigh's preschool teacher would mind if I hung onto this book, just so I have a daily reminder???
7.01.2010
The Three-Week Rule
Several years ago I overheard a bit of advice being given. Truly, it was one of the best pieces of advice I have ever heard or probably will ever hear in my lifetime. If I leave behind but one ray of light in this lifetime of mine, I want to spread and share the gospel of this bit of wisdom. Go ahead and engrave it on my headstone please.
I was sitting at a baby shower. My baby shower in fact. A baby shower being given in celebration of the encroaching arrival of my first born in fact. My firstborn who would make his grand appearance less than twenty-four hours after I heard this bit of wisdom in fact. A baby shower that was endured rather than enjoyed due to intensifying contractions...in...fact...
Have you ever tried to appear social, relaxed, and grateful in a large group of women and gifts as you struggle to sit still and not drop to the floor, curled up in a ball of laboring misery? If you have, you know: It's not easy. But somehow I managed. And as I was "managing", gritting my teeth and pretending to enjoy my little party, I somehow also managed to hear and retain the golden wisdom I am about to share.
Are you ready for your life to be changed, for your world to be stopped, for your existence to be altered?
Ready???
"Give it three weeks."
Did you hear the angelic chorus?
That's right. Three weeks. In the particular case that I overheard this, the woman was advising a new mother: Give it three weeks. You'll get the hang of it. Things will get easier. Just give it time. Three weeks to be exact.
And you know what? In the midst of labor and delivery, I forgot about that...
Until...
I found myself a week later, crumpled in a sobbing, hopeless, exhausted heap of postpartum jelly-belly and haggard hormones on my living room floor at 3 am with a wide-awake, screaming, poopy for the umpteenth time newborn. Suddenly, those words came to my mind again.
Give it three weeks.
Okay. I'll try. Three weeks passed. And...I felt better. I had gotten more of a grip on this new mother thing. I didn't have it down perfectly, but I was coping. I was learning. I was assuming the mantle of motherhood with a little more grace and dignity than that sobby little blob I had been two weeks earlier.
As life has gone on, as a second baby has come, then a third, a move here, a move there, a trial, a tiff, a dent, a dam, a world war, a wart or two, a heart-stopping moment, a hungry bank account, a spell of sickness, a spell of sadness... Whatever it has been that has caused me whether physically or mentally to collapse back into my little hopeless mush-ball again...I remember what I heard that night that was poignant enough to reach me through contractions and discomfort...
Give it three weeks.
That and "when it comes to pushing that baby out, give it all you got and just get that dang thing out!" (I remembered that one too. Great advice by the way! I've never had to push longer than 15 minutes! I'm just saying...)
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