Thanksgiving

So obviously I didn't make it through 30 days of thanks.  But I made it halfway and that counts for something, right?  I guess all I really wanted to do was to address the fact that I'm grateful for the life I have. Though it's sometimes upside down and sideways and far from perfect, I love my life.  Even when I'm exhausted and complaining, I can usually pull myself up by remembering that I am incredibly blessed.

I have a family that loves me and supports me.  They make me laugh and make me feel special.  They are my cheerleaders and the people who make me feel like I can actually achieve success on this crazy road I'm on. They are the people who listen when I'm sad.  They are the people who clap when I'm happy.  They are my family and I love them all dearly.

I have friends that never stop caring.  They watch my kids when I'm overbooked.  They bring me meals when I'm stressed.  They listen when I'm overwhelmed.  They carry me in prayer when I can't go on.  They are my support system when my family is away.  I need them more than they know.

I have three amazing kids.  They are beautiful and intelligent.  They take care of me even though I'm supposed to be the one taking care of them.  They are loving and compassionate.  My life is wrapped up in them.  Without them I don't know who I'd be.  They are my everything.  And everything I do is for them.  I was born to be their mother and it is my greatest privilege to watch them grow up.  With all I have in my life, it is them that I am most grateful for.  I love them more than I could ever express in words.  More than I ever thought humanly possible.

Thanksgiving.  It is necessary.  Because I have been given much.  And as I muddle through this life I've been given, it's important to stop and remember that.

Thanksgiving Day

 Lazy pajama morning

Big kids participating in tradition

Little kids being entertained by big kids

Baby kisses

Southern feasting

Porch swing quiet and lots of laughter

Sibling bonding and mama hugs

Gifts Unexpected

Even though our family is not whole most of the year, I am thankful that we have managed to come together on holidays to celebrate as a family.  Even if it means celebrating Thanksgiving a few days early.  Or answering other people's "Isn't it awkward...?"  questions about being together on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.  I'm thankful that we don't find it awkward.

I'm thankful that my childrens' father knows me well enough to know how much holiday time means to me.  He knows how much I need this holiday time with these three we made.  He knows I need it down deep in the very essence of me.  It's who I am.  I'm thankful that he acknowledges that part of me by letting me be with my children on those days, often sacrificing his own time with them. (He doesn't have to do that, but he does it anyway.)  I'm thankful for Skype and Facetime that allows us to be "together" even on those days.

I'm thankful that even through our hurt and loss, we can come together for our children to show love and kindness and grace. And after all isn't that what this time of year is about?

I'm thankful for a time of year that allows us to put aside all of the other life stuff and focus on what really matters.  Family.  And I'm thankful for the countless other times throughout the year when I realize that even though our situation is far from ideal, I know (from looking at others in similar situations) that it could be so much worse.  Despite our own weaknesses, we are trying our best to make sure that the kids are raised well.  And I'm thankful for God's grace to cover the rest.

Gifts of Laughter

Gifts Hard Eucharisteo

There are some things in life that seem too awful to be thankful for.  To really look at your life and be thankful for where you've come from can some times seem ridiculous.  It's much easier to look forward in the light of harsh life realities.  To be thankful for the moving on.  Why be thankful for hurtfulness?  Why give credit to the pain?  We're told to be thankful in everything, yes, but I think there is something deeper to being thankful for the hard times.  Looking at those times and seeing how it's made you who you are frees you from the baggage of it, in a way.  It's not that it won't always be with you, or that you won't feel the pain of it anymore.  But thankfulness frees you from the bitterness.  And so with that in mind I write this letter.  Some of you aren't going to like it.  But that's alright.  It's honest and its where I am.

To the one who couldn't love me,

I use to lie awake at night and listen to cars go by.  I would wait for one to pull into our driveway thinking you had changed your mind and come home.  

On those sleepless nights I would replay all of the things I would have done differently.  All of the ways I would have been better.  All of the things I would have said or done to be enough for you.  

I'd hold my breath and wish you back.  

I would have taken you back.  I shouldn't have, but I would have.

And for a time I cried, and sank, and was convinced that this was all my fault.  

Until I realized that it wasn't.    And then I got angry.  Angry with you for leaving.  Angry with myself for loving you, the one who couldn't love me.

Now, I'm not crying, but neither am I angry.  You're now just a part of my story.  A past part that I'm through writing.  Except to say this.  

I'm thankful that you left.  

In your leaving I was able to stop trying to be who I thought you needed me to be and to start discovering who I was meant to be.   In the years since you've left, I have become more confident in who I am than I ever was with you.  I have begun to open doors that I thought were forever closed to me, doors that I had convinced myself I was alright with never opening.  By leaving, you prompted growth in me.  Growth that I didn't even know that I needed.

I thought being your wife was enough.  And yet you made me feel like I was never enough.   

Without you, I have become a better mother, friend, and woman.  I'm thankful for who I'm becoming without you.  

Ironically, I think you would have liked this woman.  

We got married too young.  We both know that.  We were kids who didn't know who we would become as adults.  But I knew you were a work in progress that was far from perfect.  That our relationship was a work in progress.   You should have granted me the same. 

Though, if you had, maybe we'd still be where we are.  Maybe I'm not who you ever wanted.  Maybe who I would never have been enough.  We can't know these things.  We're left with the choices that were made.  In light of those choices, I know that  I needed this time.  Time to cry.  Time to be angry.  Time to grow.  Without you.

The End.  

Three Gifts Silent

Silence in the voice of God.

Silence in the rainfall.

Silence in a late autumn fire surrounded by quiet, as we all stare into the dancing flames.

Three Gifts Behind A Door

I turn off the car and wait for a minute before I get out.  I'm tired and stressed, and my bag is heavy with books and too much to do.  I carry this weight to the mailbox where I find bills that I can't pay.  Then I make my way to the door, unlock it, and step inside.  Some days I look around at the chaos and want to walk right back out of the door.  But most days I close the door and lean heavy against it as I take in the warmth that is home.  Yes, there are back packs on the floor and dishes in the sink.  And three crazy sprites usually attack me, who always want to talk all at once.   They have papers to sign and homework to do and they're always, always, hungry.  I breathe in the mom chaos as it greets me.  It's what I  live for. So I drop my bags and begin to sort through the beautiful mess that I find behind the door.