I'm still surprised.

I don't know why, really, but I'm always surprised when something pops up that I actually sort of expected to happen along the way. The latest surprise smacked me in the face this morning when I decompressed with my kids from their weekend away.

We talked things through in such a civilized manner when I actually made the decision to leave. I packed my things. We had conversations about who would take/keep what, when the kids would visit, how we would do Christmas, who we would explain things to, how we would go about that process, who would pay the bills, what child support would look like. We didn't fight tooth and nail, we didn't involve lawyers and judges. We agreed. We wrote it down. We turned it over for legaleze drafting. We read it, fixed details, signed it, returned it.

It's been 11 months. Things change. I shouldn't be surprised.

But I still am.

The things that started out so civil don't stay that way over time. I don't know if feelings get hurt or realities set in or bitterness kicks back in over time or distance or realization or what actually happens...but civility slips away. Maybe it's just nature. Maybe when you stop thinking about it all the time you get lazy about what you said you would do. Maybe you just forget. I don't know.

My heart breaks for my kids, though. And I am reminded of how carefully I must use my words. They are worth a constant, vigilant, humble effort. I will put in that effort. I will not forget.

Favorites

...nerf wars occurring in my living room.

...the little brother lovingly educating the big sister on the best way to fire over the couch cushions.

...giggling.

...knowing they're all safely and snugly in their beds where they should be.

...river baptisms. watching my girl's crush get baptized. hehe.

...too much ice cream in a week. too many brownies in a day. too many fingers full of buttercream per cake.

...customers who post glowing facebook status updates regarding the cake you delivered ten minutes ago.

...anticipation of greatness.

..."mommy, i don't care what anybody says. i want to be the teen who isn't afraid to hold her mom's hand."

...fighting tears so that she's not embarrassed she's holding her mom's hand.

...marshmallow white cake body spray.

...a fine layer of cornstarch everywhere.


...knowing the baby will be here in the morning. and she'll want to snuggle before breakfast.

...knowing it's a short week with the baby ;)

...only having one cake next weekend. and it's for a baby i've only gotten to see once. ;)

...a dog who would rather be next to me than anywhere else.

...my mom.

...fake English accents and silly catch phrases.

...Phineas and Ferb. and iCarly.

...Phineas and Ferb and iCarly while laughing with my kids.

...hand-me-down grills.

...answered prayer.

...dreaming. wishful thinking. constant prayer.

...rest. summer.

...unconditional love.

Not Mine

I went to a concert tonight.  Sort of.

I say sort of because...well...concerts have changed a bit since I went to them as a teen.  Or a young adult, for that matter.  And, friends?  For the record?

I am no longer a young adult.  I know this now.  If I had any doubt of that before tonight, I no longer have a single one.

See, the thing is, the "concert," which was really a worship experience with a speaker, was really great.  Awesome music.  Two fantastic local bands (Yay, Amy, Jordan, Jon, and Aaron!!), relevant and contemporary worship music...so well done.  Excellent energy...friendly people.  Except...when I looked around, I realized...Good Lord, I could seriously be that girl's mother.  And it wasn't just one girl.  It was most of the people in the theater.  The speaker was 21.  I went tonight with my sweet friend Amy, who sang fabulously in the aforementioned band, and though she's semi-close in age to me, she's still young enough to definitely be considered a "young adult."  She's also at a different place in her life: single, working, free-spirited, not tied-down.  We hung out with her girlfriends at the concert, and headed to Friendly's afterward...7 girls...eating and chatting and laughing.  Only...I wasn't one of the 7 girls, really.

I was, like, the mom.  The mom who sat there and...I mean, I laughed along...I listened and interjected and agreed...but other than one other girl who has a 2-year-old (who had her daughter while in college, so, hello, 22), I was the only one there with kids, and, umm, I have 3.  And the oldest is almost TWELVE.  The girls were sweet.  And they never, ever gave me the feeling that I was out of place there with them.  I did that all by myself.  I just...had nothing to say.  It suddenly struck me that I'm seriously not young anymore.

And, to be honest with you, tonight I realized...I'm pretty ok with that.

Frankly, I'm 37 years old.  I have three children.  Married for 13.5 years.  Thirteen and a half years, folks.  The people I was with tonight, most of them haven't even been old enough to date for that long.  If they started dating at 12.

So, here's the thing:  I may feel 23.  I might look 30, if I'm super, super lucky and someone is being kind.  But...I'm 37.  I have laugh lines and crow's feet and stretch marks and experience.  It's who I am.  Tonight...it became very clear to me that it's ok.  And I'm not going to pretend that just because I prefer to rock out to what the 25-year-old single folks sing along with...I should be hanging out with them.  If I could figure out where I fit in now, that would help, that's for sure...but the young adult group...they're great...they're just not mine.

Just Ridiculous

The most ridiculous things happen to me.

I know, I know, they happen to you too.  They happen to all of us.  But seriously...when I tell people the things that happen to me, they stare blankly.  Because they're ridiculous.  Utterly ridiculous.

I had a car accident about a week and a half ago, on 12/2.  The blame lies totally on me.  Bryson and I had ordered a pizza while the girls went to lunch with their youth pastor, and we went to pick it up.  I had lazily pulled into Mom and Dad's driveway the night before rather than spending the time backing it in so that I could quickly (and safely) pull out in the morning...mistake #1.  As I backed out of the driveway, I did my usual glance-over-my-shoulders-after-stopping-before-the-sidewalk-for-fear-of-backing-over-a-pedestrian-with-his-dog, then glanced over to make sure Bryson had his seatbelt on, and continued over that shoulder as well...and seeing nothing, backed into the eastbound lane...I heard something crash, looked in the rearview mirror, and all I could think was that I'd hit the garbage can at the end of the driveway, which made no sense...when I looked up, I realized we were no longer in the driveway, but were facing westbound in the eastbound lane, and I heard another crash.  Looking into my rearview mirror again, I noticed that my back window was gone, and there was an SUV on it's roof behind my van.  I jumped out of the car, absolutely shocked, and for a moment...stood there, with no understanding of what had actually happened.  Bryson jumped out of his seat, and ran into the house to get my dad to call 911--Dad had heard the crash and was already on the phone.  I couldn't make sense of the car on it's roof--which side was which--and could only see the deployed side air bags through the windows.  A passer-by with his wits about him helped the woman out of the vehicle, and she really seemed to be basically fine (though we wouldn't let her stand up until the ambulance got there)...you know, other than the fact that her vehicle had flipped from it's tires to it's top in a matter of 20 feet...

I never even saw her.  And I looked.  I hit her rear passenger side door--she drove a Nissan Pathfinder.  She didn't swerve, didn't slam on her brakes, didn't blow her horn...nothing.  I hit her, her car sort of swerved just barely over the double yellow, and it flipped over and slid on it's top.  When all was said and done, it smashed out my rear window, crushed the passenger side back corner, and crumpled my back bumper.  They life-flighted the other driver to Sayre, and she wound up with glass in her eyes and a headache.  I got a ticket for failure to yield in a roadway...the paper reported it as "unsafe driving" (of course, they also called me Melinda Frazer, and said I was driving a station wagon...but whatever...then they splashed a picture of it with the article on the front page of the Leader. Good grief.).  I stood watching everything get cleaned up and taken care of, talking to the policeman, watching them flip the car back over...in absolute disbelief.  I have no idea how it happened.  No idea what I could have done differently.  Looked longer?  Looked again?  Backed up more slowly to get across two lanes of road?  Left 2 minutes sooner?  Not ordered pizza?  The whole thing is surreal.  Crazy.  Ridiculous.

What I know isn't ridiculous?  That my girls were with Pastor Rachel, and not in the back seats.  That none of the airbags went off.  That the van wasn't totalled.  That I didn't pull out even 2 seconds sooner...when Bryson's side of the van would have received a direct hit...possibly killing him.  Those facts aren't ridiculous.  Our vehicles have high deductibles, but full coverage, which includes towing and rental cars. I hit her before I even really started moving, and she received minimal injuries, from what I understand.  It could have been so much worse.

Will I be so glad when 2010 ends, and this is all over?  Maybe.  Do I think it doesn't matter what year it is...ridiculous things just seem to happen to me?  *Snicker*  Yes.  But something else I know...I know that even amidst all of the crappiness of the past several months...I have so little about which to complain.  I am alive.  Loved.  Fortunate.  Blessed.  The ridiculous may surround me...but so does my Protector.  I may continually fall into places of despair...but not without the company of my Provider.  I might be confused and frustrated and beside myself...but not without the full knowledge and attention of the Peace-Giver.  More to come in 2011?  Bring it on.

Blogging

I'm blogging.  I make no promises regarding this post...none at all.  Blogging has taken a back seat to the rest of my life over the past three months.  For those of you who have been chomping at the bit (HA) waiting for a post, I apologize.  Truly.  Today is about biting the bullet and getting it out there...no more putting it off.

In the past, I blogged to remember things I didn't want to forget.  To leave something behind to commemorate what had happened in our lives...primarily because typing happens so much more quickly than writing.  My journals went by the wayside when babies came along (and really before that, because life turned into teaching and living...as it should have.)...so...I blogged to keep track of what kept happening in life, despite my lack of time to physically write it down.  When things have gone crazy, I have slacked on my blog, but...I have always come back to it.  Blogging has been a respite...a place to find my sanity as I babbled through it.

Such has not been the case over the past three months.  I have six or seven 2- or 3-sentence-long posts in drafts that sat completely untouched in that amount of time.  That's all I could come up with.

See, even in the past when things have been tough, I have wanted to remember that we made it through them.  I have wanted to tell, even without detail, that we were making it.  That God had provided for our needs.  That through whatever garbage we struggled, we had struggled through.  And it's not that we're not making it through it right now...we are...it's just...so much.  More than I've wanted to share.  More than I've wanted to admit.  More than I've wanted to blog.  I'm really still there, to be honest, but...here I am.

In three to four months, the divorce will be finalized.  The past three months have brought us to that point.  The kids and I moved in with my parents while we make the transition, and we'll find our own place, hopefully within a few months.  We haven't worked out all the details...they're all a bit overwhelming at this point...but we're getting there.  That has become my very least favorite statement in the world over the past year or two:  "We'll get there."  If I never hear it or say it again...I'll be fine with that.

If you pray, please pray with me.  For peace and comfort for my children who didn't see this coming, and don't know what to do with it.  For wisdom and protection for Seth and me as we figure it out.

I want to blog more consistently...I should just caution you...it may not be fun reading.  It probably won't be fun writing.

Things to be glad about...

Do you remember Pollyanna?  I watched that movie so many times as a young teen...probably because for the two years we lived in Allentown, we actually had Disney channel, and it played constantly...and we didn't exactly get out to the movies very often while Dad was in college.  I remember thinking how I could see Pollyanna's point...that even in the hardest times, you could always find something to be glad about.  In my eternal optimism, my chipper attitude, my innocence...it was a lot easier then to find the "glad." I remember at the beginning of the movie...when all of the grown-ups were annoyed with her happiness...wondering how people could be so negative.

I'm not having a "figure out what there is to be glad about" kind of day.  I feel an awful lot like Angelica.  Before she got happy.  And this has happened too often lately.

So, today, I will force myself to dwell upon sunshine.  Here's my list of what I can be glad about:

-Healthy, active, intelligent, beautiful, loving kids.
-Full tummies.
-Full pantry.  Fridge.  Freezer.  And we haven't been shopping in two weeks.
-Air. Conditioning.
-Getting paid to do what I love.  And getting more calls to do it all the time.
-A disastrous playroom.  Covered in toys and the remnants of make-believe.
-Text messages that make me laugh.  Hard.
-A full craft cabinet.  Which I haven't stocked since Christmas. :)  And the children rediscovered today.
-Too many games.
-Cooler temps...and a breeze. :) Great sleeping weather.
-Well-worn furniture and a new mattress.
-Sirius Radio and lots of new summer music.
-Seasonal fruits and veggies.  Let's hear it for STRAWBERRIES!!!
-A functioning, just-the-right-amount-of-warm, in-ground pool.
-A house that stays within 20 minutes of company condition. ;)
-Four bedrooms. And the fact that more often than not, only two of them are used for sleeping.
-P90X. (You knew I had to include that somewhere in this list, right?)
-Creative brides. Who let me play with their cake designs.
-Friends who listen to me ramble. About mundane, completely unimportant things.
-Grace and forgiveness.  Which I struggle to accept, but know are available.
-My dishwasher.
-The neighbor's yummy smelling fabric softener which wafts through my open kitchen window. :)
-Summer sports that wear my kids out.  And make them tan and happy.
-The opportunity to read and think while summer sports wear my kids out. :)
-Excessive use of smiley faced emoticons.
-A cell phone that makes me smile.  It's completely unnecessary, but it's fun.

So many more things come to mind.  I've left this open all day to add as I've thought of things, and I know I could leave it open until I go to bed tonight and I would double the list...but I'll tell you, when I started it...I really didn't think I had that many.  I have gotten bogged down in the junk.  And there's plenty of junk, too...but if I focus on that junk...I forget...all of that stuff up there.  And the junk is overwhelming.  But the good stuff...that's where I want to live.

I think I'll work on a mental list. Starting...now.

Grateful

I have spent the past two weeks or so extraordinarily stressed out.  To the point where I have definitely not been a peach to live with.  That fact has stressed me out even more than the actual sources of stress, and has caused me to be even less of a peach to live with.

This truth irritates me.  Embarrasses me, even.  But it's where I've been.

When I finally crashed (for the first time) tonight, my phone immediately buzzed in my pocket--the cake I spent the afternoon constructing and planned to deliver earlier tonight had been put off indefinitely as of about 5:00--the friend who ordered it had rushed her 9-year-old daughter to the emergency room.  The phone call (at 9:45) was her father calling to ask if he could pick up the cake.  In the course of conversation (and situating the cake on the front seat of his car...where a spider attacked the bottom layer, and his finger swiped the frosting across the bottom...buttercream is a wonderful thing), I learned that their Emily has pneumonia, but they feared meningitis when they took her in, and that she and 2 out of 3 of her siblings has Cystic Fibrosis.  Yep.  Three out of four kids.  And the fourth is a carrier.  He stood there and told me about twice daily breathing treatments and vibrating vests to break up mucous and serious concerns any time one of them starts coughing...wondering if their youngest son is getting lean too fast as he grows as this could be a bad sign.

I had no idea.

And the next words out of his mouth?  "Really, we're just so blessed.  We know it could be so much worse."

As I sat down again after he left, digesting what he said, I started my blogwalk.  Later than usual today.  I follow the blog of a woman who, along with her husband, was in a plane crash in which they were burned.  Significantly.  She much worse than he.  I'm not even sure how long ago.  A couple of years, I think.  At 33, she is easily the strongest, bravest, most incredible person I have ever "met," virtually or otherwise.  Find her here.  She had a massive surgery about a month ago to repair her neck, and she has blogged recently about her recovery.  She lives in agonizing pain every day.  She hurts when she hugs her children.  She spends months a state away from her babies, so anesthetized that she has no idea how much time has passed, and she counts the doctors and nurses as her closest friends.  And she writes nearly every day about how very blessed she is.  Just to have another day.

Tonight as I read, it struck me how very little I have to gripe about.

No matter how busy my schedule, no matter how much goes dramatically wrong, no matter how many arguments with my kids, crazy things that happen with car keys and wet clothes and chewed up shoes and budgets gone haywire...I sit here on my couch one very fortunate woman.  Blessed.  Loved.  Spoiled.

Grateful.  And determined to be even more so tomorrow.

Biting the bullet.

I have five beginnings of blog posts saved in drafts.  They start out being something interesting, and my mind wanders, and I can't make any sense of them past the first two sentences.  It's pathetic, actually.  So.  As a result of my lack of intelligent, even semi-interesting writing ability...let me sum up:

I.  My kids are amazing.  

   A.  The girls took their required fifth grade standardized tests on Tuesday, and they rocked them.  As a homeschooling mom, I question every decision, every curriculum choice, every teaching moment, every battle to get something finished, every single day.  Their test results made me...giddy.  They're not only getting the job done, they're kicking butt.  

  B.  Bryson can borrow.  I know this doesn't seem like a big deal to you...I get that borrowing is something you could do with your eyes closed and your hands tied behind your back.  But the girls couldn't borrow to save their freaking liveswhen I tried to teach them.  We literally spent an entire month working on the concept.  I don't know if Bryson just has a knack for math...it really seems like his brain just works that way...or what it is, but the look on his face when he finishes an assignment...well, it's mirrored in mine.

II.  I am completely insane.

  A.  May 2nd, I helped pull off an all-church celebration event at the Pickelner Arena here in town...my responsibilities included lights, sound, and helping to organize and lead worship for the event.  So many hands were involved in making this happen...and after hours and hours and hours of prep...it all came together.  I can't even tell you how long I spent in front of my computer screen making slide shows and organizing song lyrics.  Hours.  The response from the congregation, the overwhelming presence of God, the feeling at the end of the day...priceless.

  B.  I'm still in the process of moving this blog.  So far, nothing more than moving three months worth of posts and updating with each new one I write here has actually happened...but the process continues.   http://fiveofuscrazy.blogspot.com  <--- that's where you'll find me.  

  C.  I may have inadvertently taken on a wedding cake three hours away from me three weekends from now.  This week.  And it maybe wasn't inadvertently.  I'm not completely sure.  I hope my brother doesn't mind a house guest (or 4) that weekend. 

  D.  I had two wedding cake consults within 14 hours of each other this week.  I can't remember the details of either cake clearly without looking at my notes very carefully.  Hopefully I remember what each of the brides (and grooms) said.  :)

  E.  I have become obsessive about checking my email.  And less capable of producing a decent status update.

  F.  Complete insanity implies that I may not actually share all of the details with you.  It's part of the insanity.  Some of that is frustration with what it includes...some of it is just that...he he...I like secrets. :)  Insanity...it's a part of my life I sort of relish.

III.  Spring may never actually get here.

  A.  We have had snow, rain, sleet, frost, wind advisories, and heat in the past three weeks, with the heat being the most scarce.  Seth brought home a huge pit liner from work yesterday, torturing the children with the thought of an industrial strength slip-and-slide for the back lawn.  The temperature climbed to a whopping 64 degrees today, and Bryson was beside himself over the fact that I would not let him use it today..."Mom, it's HOT out.  Almost!"  Mmm. Yes.  Almost. 

  B.  Tomorrow's forecast calls for a high of 82.  You won't find me holding my breath.

IV.  My girlfriends and I should stop planning get-aways.

  A.  Tomorrow, we planned to leave for the weekend, meet at a tiny little cottage at a conference center someplace in Western PA, and spend the weekend being silly, scrapbooking, and talking until we fell asleep.  This marks the third trip we have cancelled in the past three months.  Sigh.  For the time being, we have given up.

  B.  Eventually, I may just take a trip all by myself.  With a couple of good books, my blog, P90X dvd's, and yummy snacks.  At a sweet little bed and breakfast in the middle of nowhere.  Cell phone optional.

V.  P90X has changed my life.  And my body.

  A.  I have completed 72 of 90 days of my first round of P90X.  I have never, ever felt stronger, more energized, or more happy with how I look.  Ever.

  B.  Getting up at 6:00 in the morning or before has never even crossed my mind as something I would look forward to.  Until now.  Even when I've only gotten 4 hours of sleep. 

  C.  I think there is something wrong with me.  But I like it.  And in 19 days, I'll start round 2.  And after that, I'm pretty sure I'll try Insanity.

  D.  I have hit every single one of the goals (and surpassed some of them) I set at the beginning of this 90 days except for the weight goal...which is a little silly...because I picked a random number out of the air (a number I haven't weighed since middle school).  I'll let you know if I hit that one (I'm not planning to, frankly, but I'll keep working at it).  The goals I have hit include losing 3 inches from my chest, 3.5 inches from my waist, and 3 from my hips (all of which are at least .5 in. more than my goals)...which may not seem like a big deal, but, umm...it sure feels like it. 

  E.  I desperately need new pants. :)

VI.  Life is complicated.

Enough said.

Moments

I look at my life in snapshots...quick glances...unanticipated clicks...those are my favorite moments. The ones where the camera catches something I didn't necessarily expect to see. I'm always struck by those moments.

So much of my life is planned...expected. I live it that way intentionally, so that I make the most of each second, deliberate not to waste an opportunity, miss an appointment, look past a minute where something meaningful happened. I live it that way on purpose.

But sometimes, the moments I catch surprise me. Sometimes I'm struck with something I didn't expect to see. Something off in the corner of the shot catches my eye...and I realize it would have been just as easy to miss as to catch...

...and I'm so grateful I didn't miss it.

I don't want to blog today.

I want to sit here and just think. I want the world to shut up around me. I want the hamster to stop banging against the cage with her wheel, and Seth's computer to stop making Starries sounds, and the dog to stop ringing the bell to go out. I want to breathe deeply. I want to yell a little bit. Maybe cry for a while. But I don't want to blog.

Have you ever noticed how when you're completely engulfed all the time in something you cherish and adore, you tend not to notice other things that are pretty great too? But then...out of the blue, for a day or two, you're suddenly surrounded by those other things and you remember...oh, man. I want that. I love what I have, but I. want. that.

And I'm not talking about stuff. And I'm not talking about someone else. Sheesh.

I am blessed. And fortunate. And spoiled. And loved. I have no right to ask for anything more. I'm not asking, really. I live in reality. But.

But.

sigh.

Remembering...

Well, life has taken over, and when that happens, updates become sparse. It's holy week...which means, of course, worship insanity. Honestly, this is not meant as a complaint. I have gone through years when it struck me on Saturday morning, after a day I would traditionally give at least a brief pause to consider the crucifixion and the death of my savior...for me...that I had not even realized Good Friday had come and gone. I don't attach any superstitious value to the day, and realize that I should be living every single day in remembrance of that mind-boggling, life-altering event, but there is something to be said for a moment's reflection. Even a day's reflection. This year, instead I have been allowed to help plan a Good Friday worship service, and an Easter worship service...and reflection has happened as a natural part of the process. While planning the rehearsal and thinking about the special music I'll sing, and making sure my heart is in the right place to sing and to lead and to even participate in all that will happen this weekend...I have spent much time thinking on holy week and it's significance in my faith. In my redemption. In my eternity. And in the midst of baking a giant cake for Awana, carting kids to their practices, planning rehearsals and transitions and desserts for family gatherings, and working out...this year, I am remembering.

It is overwhelming to do so much remembering.

Four or five years ago, Seth and I left our kids with their favorite babysitter and went with our home group to see The Passion of the Christ. I will never, ever watch it again. I don't need to watch it again. Once those images flashed on the screen, they were etched in my brain forever. I guess, if at some point, my memory fades, I should watch it again so that can't happen. Frankly, I'm not worried about that. What I did do, however, after sobbing through the movie to the point of throwing up, was block it from my mind. It hurt to realize the graphic reality of what my Jesus went through. I pushed it away. After talking with my home group about how eye-opening it was, and shaking my head and saying how much it made me think whenever it came up in conversation (which happened less and less often as time passed) it became really easy to just not think about it. Conveniently. As I have planned this year, those images have flashed through my memory. Over and over and over again. In my mind, the face of my Jesus will always resemble Jim Caviezel. Because I have continually seen his face this week. The garden. The betrayal. The trial. The beatings. The screams. His mother, watching. His Father turning his back on his Son.

A Father's love and mercy and sacrifice. A Son's willingness to obey, and also to love. To love me.

This year, I'm remembering.

Are you?