Monday, November 3, 2014

“Anger fuels creativity, guilt sparks improvement and self-doubt makes us aim higher with our actions.”

Today I had a dentist appointment.  Technically I had a dentist appointment Friday at 10:30—or so I had convinced myself.  Then I arrived Friday for my 10:30 dentist appointment to embarrassingly learn that my appointment was at 10 am.  Sigh.  The girls know how I struggle with getting there when I’m supposed to get there.  One time I was so excited to be there with one of the kids on the right day and the right time—except I was a month early.  A MONTH EARLY!  Oh well.  Fast forward to today.  I was at the dentist on time—early even!  I took a nice hot shower this morning, fixed my hair, did my makeup, put on a pretty blue sweater—I was feeling pretty good about myself today. 

I didn’t take my cellular device in the dentist office today.  I sat out in the waiting room and read the entire O magazine cover to cover and it was really nice.  I found a new book I want to read (Lila by Marilynne Robinson) and I found this awesome quote on anger, guilt and anxiety from a book called “The Upside of your Dark Side”:  “Anger fuels creativity, guilt sparks improvement and self-doubt makes us aim higher with our actions.”  Well that is good to know.  Little did I know this would come in handy for what was about to go down…

My sweet, beautiful dental hygienist called me back.  I love, love, love getting my teeth cleaned.  I love it.  I love getting in the car after my cleaning and looking at my fangs in the rearview mirror and running my tongue across my smooth, freshly polished chompers. 

I hung my purse and my coat on the hooks provided in the fang cleaning cubicle.  I chatted it up with my hygienist and I took a seat in the chair.  As I got comfy, I looked down at my little brown Mary Janes and I couldn’t believe my eyes.  I had dog shit on the inside heel of my right shoe.  Oh.Muh.Gawd. I began having heart palpitations.  I had two choices here.  I could say “Excuse me, it appears I have dog shit on my shoe, if you will excuse me, I will go remove that in just a jiffy!” OR I could sit very still with my legs and heels clinched tightly together and nobody would see it.  So that’s what I did.  I sat in that chair for 45 minutes with my heels held together.  And HELLO ladies!  Forget Zumba, forget CrossFit, forget Yoga!  You sit in a dentist chair with your lower extremities clenched for 45 minutes.  I promise that YOU WILL FEEL IT!  The entire time I was getting my teeth polished I was thinking, “Please for the love of Buddha, do not let somebody walk by and say, “I smell something.  Do y’all smell that?” because I will run straight out of this place in my dog shit laced Mary Janes and my bib on, not passing Go and not collecting $200.


I had been mentally planning the removal and disposal the entire time I sat in that chair.  I had two tissues in my hands that were given to me when I got in the chair.  When the hygienist was finished and left the cubicle to get the dentist, I was going to quickly wipe the dog shit off of my shoe and stick it in the pocket of my coat that was hanging on the hook.  No, I don’t want to have dog shit in my coat pocket, but I also don’t want to put it in the trash can to stink the place up today. 


And 3, 2, 1…she left!  I wipe it off, wad it up in those tissues and get ready to get up and BAM!  There she is.  I’m looking all around the room with my dog shit tissues in my hand and she said, “Whatcha need?”  I said, “Oh, I was just going to throw this away.”  So I turned around and basket-tossed it right in the trashcan right by her chair.  
Sorry Patty.  Please forgive me.
~lightningbug

Friday, October 31, 2014

Ready, Set GO or Ready Set, NO?

When my oldest child was a little less than two years old, I decided, based on all the reading I had been doing, that it was time for him to give up his pacifier.  He loved his binky.  I mean loved it.  All three of my children loved their pacifiers, but Riley, by far, loved his the most.  I remember I put him in his crib for a nap one day and I gently laid him down without his beloved binky.  He cried and cried and cried.  I would go in and try to soothe him and then leave the room and he cried and cried and cried.  And screamed.  And gasped for air.  And he cried so hard that he literally threw up all in his crib.  So then we had not one, but two people crying, because now I had no idea what to do with this inconsolable baby plus now I had to clean the puke up.   

Guess what I did?  I gave the binky back to that baby.

And then about six more months went by and he still had that binky.  

Then our neighbors had a little baby boy.  I told Riley that baby Adam needed a binky now, so he agreed to take baby Adam his binky and that was that.  No crying, no fits, no puking. 

I have often thought back to this moment because I believe there’s a lot more to it than a baby giving up a pacifier.  There have been times in all of our lives when we try to make changes…careers, education, relationships…all sorts of things.  Sometimes we try to begin new chapters or end chapters or skip over chapters before we’re ready and things just don’t work out.  We hold onto things that we can’t seem to let go of or we let go of things that we can’t seem to hang on to.   I think because sometimes our timing isn’t right, we end up being like the baby in the crib, crying so hard that we gasp for air, then ultimately reach our breaking point. (aka Pukeville)

That doesn’t mean things will always go smoothly, even when the timing is right.  I’m sure Riley had lapses of wanting that binky back throughout the following weeks, but it wasn’t nearly as traumatic as it had been.  So if you’re trying to make changes, listen to that screaming baby inside of you.  Maybe it’s not time to let go of your binky (or change careers, or begin a new relationship or have a baby or quit your job and join the Rockettes) today.  When the timing is right, you will often find courage, strength, peace and blessings will also come along for the ride.
-lightningbug

Sunday, September 28, 2014

Stuff I've Learned this Weekend

Stuff I’ve learned this weekend:

1.  Do not make yourself a big bowl of popcorn and walk downstairs and come back and reach in the bowl to get popcorn because there could be a big ball of fuzz in your mouth that nobody seems to know anything about.

And let me go ahead and throw in a plug for my favorite microwavable popcorn, Popz.  You can get this stuff at Walmart for a buck.  And it's super yummy.  Minus the fuzz.

2.  Marketing execs cannot fool my daughter. 
“So I see they’re trying to bring the ole lava lamps back again, eh?” 

Let the lava lamps go.  Just let them go.


3. Those cute pics of fireplace mantels in the magazines...that is as much reality as 50 Shades of Grey.  

Glass containers filled with candy corn?  
That was a super cute decoration for like 12 hours.  
Then everybody's tummy was hurting.


The mantel is seriously driving me apeshit batty.  How can my little pumpkins compete against that 50 some inch blazing black box above?  I can't put anything with any height whatsoever on there.  

Hello world, this is my mantel.  No, I don't have a collection of miniatures, I just have no space for anything over 5 inches tall.  

Grr.  I don't know how I ever agreed to allow a tv upstairs anyway.  I must've really had a weak moment that day.  There must've been a House Hunters marathon on or something.

4. If it says it will take 15 minutes, it probably means an hour.  This goes for ready-to-assemble bookcases, hashbrown casserole and making a burlap wreath.  I encountered this phenomenon with all of the aforementioned things this weekend.  I was ---"this"--- close to throwing the whole stupid bookcase out in the front yard in a fit of rage after I put the darn thing together wrong twice and had to try to redo it without tearing the cheapo crap0 all to pieces-o.  
I need words people.  Stop already with the diagrams.  I need the instructions in words. That would be helpful.

5.  Don't jump (or cartwheel, high five, or hit the liquor cabinet) to any conclusions that your laundry is finished until everyone has cleaned their rooms because chances are you will have 14 more loads after they get their clothes up off the floor.  Just stay in the basement my sistas.  It ain't over til the fat lady sings.  And until the squatters clean their pig sties.

6. Hands to the Face is my favorite football penalty.  What's yours?  
I sing it to "Pants on the Ground."  Y'all remember that American Idol awesomeness?



"Hands to the Face, Hands to the Face.  
Lookin' like a fool with your hands to the face."

7.  I accidentally hit the arrow on my iPhone today and VOILA!  ALL CAPS!  I thought the iPhone just didn't have all caps.  I seriously thought that.  So if you also thought that, you just tap the shift arrow twice quickly and you will get all caps.  I've only had this phone for over a year now.  Sigh.

8.  My children continue to drive me bonkers one minute and make me realize why being their mom is the coolest job in the world in the next.  
My oldest son runs cross country.  His team won first place in their meet this weekend.  I was watching a Facebook video the coach posted and I heard someone say in the most intentional backwoods hillbilly voice, "This one's goin' in the trophy case."  I watched it a second time to be sure.

Ah.  Proud mama moment.  He may not be the fastest runner, but by george, he makes me proud.

~Lightningbug

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Because I can’t find the right section in Hallmark…

I didn’t buy any Mother’s Day cards this year.  I suck.  I went down the aisle and got all choked up when I realized this was the first year of my life that I didn't have a grandma to send a Mother's Day card to and decided I would go back later and then it was Saturday and that just wasn't going to work.

I used to always have cards bought and mailed at least a week before the holiday.  Even the seemingly cardless holidays like St. Patty’s Day and Halloween and National Hot Dog Day.  I was a card sending fool.  Then I had another kid.  Then I had another one after that one.  And then I got a cell phone and a laptop and a Facebook and it suddenly became much easier to procrastinate until the eleventh hour and so I have fallen victim to the way of the new millennium. 

So here I sit, with one mom up the road, one Ma in Alaska, a mother-in-law two hours away and two grandmas in heaven, one of which is a recent inductee, thinking about mothers and the contributions of them on my life.  And they don't exactly have that section in Hallmark.

My mom is Rebecca Jane Neal Stover Redman, also known as Becky, or to me, Mama.  I could sugar coat this and tell you that we had this beautiful, magical life together for my first eighteen years, but that would be a lie.  We didn’t.  We fought like cats and dogs and we bumped heads at every turn.  You will never catch me saying that she didn’t (and doesn’t) love me though.  She and my dad also had their fair share of head butting.  It wasn’t the most harmonious marriage to say the least.  I retreated to my room quite often and found my outlet in paper and pen.  Given different circumstances, who knows if I would’ve found writing down my crazy thoughts so necessary?  I’ve tried to explain my “need” to write to some of my non-writing friends and they don’t get it.  Sometimes when I feel something (good, bad, or ugly) I HAVE to write.  Sometimes I feel like I can’t catch my breath until I write.  It’s way down in me.  And maybe if I had a perfectly harmonious childhood, I would’ve never thought to seek refuge in my journal.  My mom was silly also.  I’m pretty sure I inherited a little silliness.  My mom always made time to go see and do for those in need.  She volunteered at nursing homes and was constantly taking food to shut ins.  She had (and still does) a heart for the elderly.  When my Momaw Stover was ill in the nursing home, she would go down and visit her as frequently as any of the rest of the family.  I saw something not long ago that said, “Just because someone doesn’t love you the way you want them to love you doesn’t mean they don’t love you with all they have.”  She loves me with all she has.  No doubt about that.


My mom’s mom was Kathleen Eileen Knight Neal.  Momaw Neal to me.  She was a sweet, loving woman.  She had four children and four grandchildren.  I remember going and staying with her when I was a kid.  She was a widow and she could drive, unlike my other grandmother.  She would drive to the post office down the road in Pratt and right before the post office was a railroad track.  I can remember the arms coming down to indicate the train was coming and my Momaw saying that train was was down the track and she wasn’t waiting and she would just zigzag right through those arms.  I guess I got my danger and bad driving from her.  Ha!  She had a heart of gold and would do anything for anybody.  


My dad’s mom was Thelma Mae Settle Stover.  Aka, Momaw Stover.  If you know me, you will know what she meant to me.  If you’re some random person in Ukraine who stumbled on my blog, I will need to explain.  My Momaw held my heart.  At the top of the extremely long list of contributions was her time.  She talked to me, she played with me when I was a child, she constantly prayed for me and she listened to me.  REALLY listened to me…like nobody in my life has ever listened.  She was quiet and just listened.  She didn’t listen and interrupt and try to give me advice.  She listened purely and genuinely and as much with her heart as her ears.  If I asked her for advice, she would offer it and usually she was right.  And by usually, I mean always.  She always encouraged me to do the right things.  She was so selfless and I admired that so very much.  She bragged on me like grandmothers do, even though I certainly wasn’t worthy of all of her praise.  When she was ill in the nursing home, people used to tell me how lucky SHE was to have ME.  I used to think…If they only knew how I was the lucky one.  There was no other place that I would’ve been than by her side.  She devoted her entire life to being by mine.  This year she gets to spend Mother’s Day with HER mom though and that’s pretty awesome for her.



My mother-in-law is Brenda Starr Pruitt Griffith.  She has been in my life since 1996.  She has always been there for me when I needed her and unlike the textbook mother-in-law, she butts out when we don’t need her :)  When anything comes up suddenly, we know she is just a phone call away and will be at our side as soon as she can hop in the car and get here.  I remember her coming and staying with us after third-born entered the world and it was such a blessing to me.  She helped me with the other children so I could take care of my new baby.  She cooked and cleaned and I remember crying when she left because I didn’t know how I would’ve done it without her andn I wasn't sure how I was going to do it when she left.  She was with us during and after the infamous derecho and taught me how to brew coffee without a coffeemaker and quite possibly saved my life and the lives of my family members who I may have killed if I went much longer without coffee.



And last but not least is Frances "Rose" Faulker Gasparetti, or "Ma."  I have Faulker in me.  Maybe it was destiny that I would love to write.  She’s the woman who carried me for nine months and gave birth to me and held me and sobbed and then handed me over to my mom and dad.  I found Rose last year after a lifetime of wondering who my birth mother was.  It was an amazing journey and has continued to be an amazing journey as we learn more and more about each other.  We have so many similarities and it’s so much fun when we discover something and one of us says, “Oh my gosh!  Me toooo!”  Rose taught me about selflessness and sacrifices.  Finding her has given me a sense of confidence that I have lacked my entire life.  She came to visit a year ago and we gathered with my friends and family and I will never forget the words of my best friend the following day.  She said, “You should’ve seen you.  I have never seen you shine with such happiness and confidence.” 

Happy Mother’s Day to ALL of the MANY women in my life who have helped shape me and nurture me and love me!  It really does take a village.

~Until next time,
Lightning Bug




Sunday, May 4, 2014

But What If We Get Lost?

Around 10:30 this morning, I started making sandwiches.  The sun was shining, I was feeling wonderful and I was in the mood for an adventure.  I packed a half of a bag of Wavy Lays, a bag of apple slices AND by some STRANGE stroke of luck, I found the ingredients for Griffith s’mores—cinnamon graham crackers, marshmallow cream and chocolate chips.  Bam.  Picnic packed. 

Husband and daughter kept asking “Where are we going?”  I kept replying “On a picnic, sillies!”  Of course that wasn’t satisfying their controlling natures that yearned to know the specific location we were heading on this spur of the moment picnic, but I made them sweat it out.  Well…because even I didn’t know at this point where we were heading!  I just knew the sun was shining and it was an awesome day for an adventure.

I told husband to get on the interstate and we headed west.  Got off at Harts Run and headed to the Greenbrier State Forest.  There’s not much there—just a bunch of picnic areas and a rickety old metal slide and some trails. 
We arrived and we set up our picnic, despite the horrible wind that plagued our visit.  


We slammed down our lunch and then 
took a few slides down the rickety old metal slide.  


We proceeded to explore and found this really cool fire pit that had tons of seating around it.  Husband said we should have church over there.  Natalie said that’s what the fire pit at Camp Overlook looked like.  Wyatt wanted to build a fire.  We pressed on looking for trails. 

One way we went started off looking like a trail, but we then figured out it wasn’t, so we turned back.  Finally, we stumbled on an actual trail.  It was marked with little flags which is really cool for the directionally challenged, such as ourselves.  We came to a crossroad where we could go left, right or up the mountain.  I wanted to go up the mountain, but husband said he wanted to walk parallel to the road for some unknown reason, so we went right (**remember this part, it’s important!)  After I told them that I heard snakes had already been seen in the last week or so, they decided to pick up a walking stick.  Husband picked up a stick and after about ten feet of walking, the dead branch broke in half.  Now we had two sticks.  WINNING!  We continued on the trail and that took us all of about 50 yards until we came upon a picnic shelter.  Husband looked up towards the empty picnic shelter and started channeling his inner ancient native warrior and began, “We are from Camp Fire Pit to the north.  We come in peace.”  Of course, extreme laughter erupted from behind him as he continued the Native American bit.  THEN, as if “Chief LOL” was literally smiling down on us, I looked down on the trail below and there was a dream catcher laying on the ground.  


Really?  What are the odds of your husband acting like an Indian and then looking down at that exact moment and finding a dream catcher?  We put the dream catcher on third born’s walking stick and declared him “Dances with Dream Catcher” and he promptly replied that he wished to be called “Chief Dream Catcher.”  And so it was.

Chief Dream Catcher and the rest of us loaded up in the native Chrysler Town and Country and decided to drive on through the park.  We came to the end and we continued on to look for wildlife.  The road was windy and narrow and once we came to an intersection, husband asked if we wanted to take a chance and go on or if we wanted to turn around and go back. 

Of course I wanted to keep going.  I’m the spontaneous, fly by the seat of my pants member of the family.  My first date with him began normal enough-- with flowers and dinner and when we left dinner, I said, “Let’s drive south.”  First sign I saw said Bristol.  I said, “Let’s go to Bristol.”  Before we made it to Bristol, I saw a sign that said Knoxville.  I said, “Let’s go to Knoxville.  About 3 am, all those eighteen years ago, we arrived in Pigeon Forge.  And the rest is history, as they say.

Chief Dream Catcher worries a lot about things an eight year old Indian Chief really shouldn’t worry about.  We’ve always thought he was wise beyond his years.  Perhaps with that gift also come the negatives of an old soul.  Chief Dream Catcher has to make sure all the doors are locked before bed.  He worries about school and his friends and his family and just about everything you can imagine.  And some that you can't.  His heart is pure gold but I worry about him worrying so much.  Husband has also noticed it in the last couple of weeks.  Probably because I told him.  And then told him it’s all his fault that the Chief worries excessively.  I mean, sometimes you just have to call a spade a spade.

When we came to that intersection, Chief Dream Catcher said “But what if we get lost?  Let’s just go back.  We shouldn’t take any chances.”  Husband turned the vehicle around and we headed back the way we had come.  I looked at husband and it was as if something finally clicked and he knew exactly what I was thinking.  At that moment, he wheeled the van back around and assured the Chief that sometimes we DO need to take chances and since we have a full tank of gas and the van is in tip top shape, we would be just fine.  And even if we did get lost…well so what?  We’d figure it out.

We went over the mountain and through the woods, skimmed Monroe County, WV, saw Tuckahoe Lake and made it safely back to White Sulphur Springs, despite having no idea where we were 99% of the time.

Some things work better with a plan and a schedule.  Sometimes you have to light a match to the plan and just take a chance though.  Sometimes they’re small chances like whether to continue a Sunday drive and sometimes they’re huge life changing, courageous chances. 

Hopefully the Chief will remember that lesson.  
And hopefully the rest of us will too.



Until next time,
Lightning Bug

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Like glitter in a snow globe, so are the lobes of my brain.

Lots of thoughts jumbling around  in my head this morning.  Actually it's 11:53 a.m.  I guess technically that's still morning.  Well for 7 more minutes.  Ok, where was I?  
Oh yeah, the jumbling.  Shake, shake.  My brain is like a snow globe.

I got up this morning and did the "morning with three kids act."  Luckily, only one packer today, so it was less of an assembly line than most mornings.  Nobody needed any last minute cash or elaborate projects or four dozen cupcakes made, so all in all it was a success.  I sent two away via bus and then took last born to school via automobile and back home, still wearing the same sexy ensemble that I wore all day yesterday and slept in last night, complete with my glasses and crazy bed head.  

I decided since I didn't have to be at work until 10, I had plenty of time to take a shower and actually look presentable for a change.  I took a lovely HOT shower, which is a premium in my house because I have three hot water loving children who have no consideration for anybody else in the house who might want to knock the stank off with a little bit of hot water.  Today I had hot water though.  I decided to skip shaving my legs because...well.  
Do I really need a reason?  
Who cares if I'm wearing a skirt today.  I'm alone in my office.  Nobody knows but me and God.  Well.  And all of you all now.  Speaking of shaving, I just saw on Pinterest that using Baby Oil gel to shave with was all the rage.  

Exhibit A

So of course I'm willing to jump on any ole bandwagon, so I got some the other day.  It's not a new product to me; I've used baby oil gel in the past.  I'm not really sure why I was thinking this would work, because all it did was clog up my insanely expensive razor blades and made me nearly bust my ass in the the slick bathtub.  I use the Schick Hydro Silk razor, by the way.  And yes, it's the best razor out there and YES, I have tried them ALL.  I will stick with shaving with a cheapo conditioner and use the baby oil gel afterwards.  I may try just a little of that baby oil gel in my frizzy hair and see how that works though.

I got out of the shower and I could feel it.  My curly hair was trying to bust out from underneath that towel.  It's been pouring the rain for two straight days and my hair has been waiting for this moment to make is grand ROCKSTAR appearance.  I lotioned with Rain Kissed Leaves this morning to stick with the rainy theme and then I unveiled what I was up against.  I looked in that mirror and I said, "Fine, buckaroo.  We'll do things your way today."  So I quickly drew my gun (Got 2b Kinkier Gloss 'n Define Curl Cream by Schwarzkopf) available at Fine retailers worldwide (Walmart) and I pumped that bad boy three times and I could just hear my locks letting out the Hallelujah chorus when I applied that product, knowing that I wouldn't be smothering their wild desires with a flat iron today.  I found my old friend the diffuser and VOILA!  Curls ahoy me mateys!

After I got all ready for work, I decided I should put away my clean laundry that was piled up in my floor.  Then I decided I was officially making the call that winter was over (I mean...I DO have the built in hair meteorological thing going on) and I was going OUT with the sweaters and IN with the tanks.  Then halfway through, I decided "Ain't nobody got time for that!" then I just made a couple of beds instead.

Then I decided it would really be awesome if dinner was ready when I got home, so at 9:50, I took the chicken out of the freezer and popped it in the microwave to defrost.  Did I mention I had to be at work at 10?  

This leads me to my entire motivation for today's blog.  I suffer from a true illness.  Some (losers) would call it lack of planning.  Some (butt faces) would call it lack of focus.  It's a true illness though, friends!  And there is scientific research to justify my lack of planning and focus ILLNESS!  

Take a look at this.  It will crack you up.  Unless you are always on time for everything, then you just won't get it and I will really have to question why we are even friends in the first place.
 

In all seriousness, while I don't think I necessarily suffer from a "condition," there are certainly attributes of the "chronically late condition" which I TOTALLY suffer from.  Topping the list is "not setting realistic expectations on how long something will take me to do."  

Like the chicken in the crockpot.  
Honest to goodness, I thought with my entire being that I could defrost five chicken breasts, make a barbeque sauce from scratch and have that in the crockpot in five minutes and be ready to walk out the door.  My brain lacks that thing that says "You dummy, you cannot paint your entire house in three hours."  And that deficit causes me to start lots of various messes that I never have time to finish.

Now that everybody thinks I am a curly-headed, chronically late, freak of nature, let me close with the happiness quote that was in my inbox today.
“Finally I am coming to the conclusion that my highest ambition is to be what I already I am."- Thomas Merton
And that's kind of what it's all about.  I'm never going to be early for everything anything or one to finish up things a week before they're due.  That's great for people whose brains operate like that.  It's just not the way MY brain operates.  
And that's okay!  
My hair is never going to be brilliantly straight and shiny like someone who has naturally straight and shiny hair.  
You will never be able to eat off my floors.  Consider it a success if you can even take your shoes off on my floors.   
I'm never going to run.  Because I hate it.  But good luck keeping up with me walking because I rock at that.  

We are all on this big, magnificent planet together and we're all made so awesomely with different personalities and talents.  We spend too much time focusing on our shortcomings instead of rocking out our strengths.  All those cliches about being yourself...they're goofy.  But they're TRUE!  
Be yourself.  
If you like doing yoga, do yoga!  If you like reading, read!  If you like making paper mache bird nests, then by gosh, you make paper mache bird nests and you rock that shit out.

Until next time,
~Lightning Bug
*shake, shake*


Thursday, March 27, 2014

There's no instruction manual for this...

March 27, 2014

It’s the day after we buried my grandma.  We had a beautiful service that celebrated her life and I cried and smiled and laughed and cried.  

Today the sun is shining magnificently and life goes on.  Or that’s what I thought anyway.  I told my dad yesterday evening that I was hoping my cousins would’ve been able to make it to the funeral.  He said they probably had to work.  When dad got home he called me.  He had looked through the book and found my cousin and his wife’s name.

I sent a text to his mom this morning and told her that I didn’t see them there and please thank them for coming and tell him I love him. 

She replied that he was taking it real hard.

Then the flood of memories began…fun times we had together as kids, our rebellious streak as teens...cousin stuff.  And then I thought about how much Momaw loved him and all the kids in the family.  Everybody. 

I remember sitting in that same place as we said goodbye to his Momaw (my Momaw’s baby sister) just a few years ago.  

Life was so much simpler 20 years ago when our biggest concern was not getting arrested for racing on the four lane.  

The only thing that stays the same is everything changes, everything changes.

Time marches on. –Tracy Lawrence 

Saturday, March 22, 2014

She loved

March 17, 2014
This week has been stressful.  Who am I kidding?  This year has been stressful.  Papaw died last February and we brought Momaw back to Covington.  We had tried for years to get Momaw & Papaw to sell their house on Mossy and come to Covington so we could look after them better.  That would’ve never made them happy though.  Their hearts were on the banks of Paint Creek…always had been.  And in our hearts, we knew that and never truly pressed the issue.  Momaw has continued to be solid in her mind throughout the last year.  This week she has been down with pneumonia and a kidney infection and she has been seeing Papaw and talking and dreaming and talking in her sleep.  It comforts me that she’s “back home” in her dreams.  It comforts me that her life was one of love that her subconscious returns there to comfort her.  Yesterday she was talking about it raining and the creek being up and the trees blowing down on the creek bank.  It’s sad to see those we love struggling with reality but it’s also comforting to know they are in that happy place.  

Yesterday Momaw’s nieces came to visit from West Virginia.  They are special nieces.  And their brother is a special nephew.  Their mother (Momaw’s sister) died when they were young.  Momaw served as a mother figure to them, so it’s a deeper bond than just an aunt.  Not only did Momaw serve as a mother figure to them, but Momaw’s own mother died when she was only 13 years old.  She has told me stories of her daddy working in the coal mines on the night shift.  Her younger sister used to have bad earaches and would scream and cry with her ears.  Momaw said there would be so many times when her daddy would come in from the mines and she would be awake and rocking her baby sister in the rocking chair in the living room to soothe her.  She had to grow up so fast. 

Losing parents, grandparents, aunts…that’s the way life is supposed to happen I suppose.  They are supposed to go on before us.  That doesn’t really make it any easier though.  Momaw is 93 and she’s had an amazing life.  Not wealth measured by a bank account, but by a much deeper kind.  She has said to me over the past year on many different occasions, “If Perry (Papaw) would’ve only known how things would turn out, he wouldn’t have left me.”  And the truth is, if he had any control of that, he wouldn’t have.  When Momaw’s time is up, they can surely write “broken heart” on her cause of death. 

She has expressed to me over the last year how she feels like a burden…how she wishes God would just go ahead and take her.  None of us want to see her suffer.  We know she’s ready to go.  She’s worn out.  She’s ready to go home.  I ache to think of her not being with us.  It hurts me to my core.  She was very much like a mother to me.  I have learned so many things from her.  Last week I felt like I had been punched in the gut when I thought I was losing her.  I became absolutely frantic.  There are still things I want to know.  I want to know how she made that amazing country fried steak and gravy.  I want to know what she would’ve done if she would’ve had a chance to go out in the world and do something for herself.  I want to know how she played some of the rotten cards she was dealt in life with complete grace and without becoming bitter.  I want to know how she always is able to think of others over herself.  I don’t know if I’m going to get a chance to ask her and I don’t know if I can even say the words to her if I do get a chance. 

She was ready to leave this earth the day Papaw left us.  She doesn’t understand why she is still here.  I told my cousins (her nieces) yesterday that what she doesn’t understand is that she is still serving a purpose on this earth.  She thinks she has nothing left to give.  She thinks she is (and has been) a burden…she doesn’t understand all of the people’s lives she has touched in the last year.  She has no idea.  She doesn’t know that I talk about her incessantly.  She doesn’t realize that people who don’t even know her have been touched by her.  She doesn’t know how she has touched her caregivers and those who have come in to bless her and leave blessed. 


This song by Jeff & Sheri Easter has played in my mind this week

Someone once asked
If only you knew
How short life would be
What would you do?
What would they say
When God called you home?
What would they engrave
Once you were gone?

I hope they would see
What I've done in my life
Who I've cared for
And how I survived
I hope they'd say

She loved more than anything else
She loved with all of her heart
She loved everyone she believed in
She loved...oh she loved

She loved the Lord
And served all her life
A sacrificial mother
And an honorable wife
She gave all she had
And through every trial
Made life much sweeter
Because of her smile

Everyone will see
What she's done in her life
Who she cared for
And how she survived
I'm sure they'd say

She loved more than anything else
She loved with all of her heart
She loved everyone she believed in
She loved...oh she loved

And indeed she did.


March 22, 2014
10 am
I was supposed to be cleaning the basement this morning.  I’m trying to carve out a workout room.  I need somewhere to go when I’m not eating doughnuts.  I’m trying to declutter and I ran across a box that I have been avoiding going through for a year.  It had old records and 8 track tapes that belonged to my grandparents and I didn’t want to toss them if they were worth anything, so I’ve just had them in a box in the basement for a year avoiding them.  I opened it up today and found pictures under the records.  And I found things like DARE graduation programs and All Star programs that my dad had mailed to them over the years.  Instead of cleaning my basement, I made a much bigger mess and went through all of those things.

My dad called.  Every day this week I have expected that dreaded call that Momaw has been called home.  Thankfully he was just checking to see if Riley and I were feeling ok—Riley was sick Friday and I thought I was getting it yesterday.  I was relieved to learn that was all the call was about and hopped in the shower.

11 am
Dad called again.  My heart sank.  I knew what it was before I even picked up the phone.

Momaw is soaring with the angels now and I’m somewhere in the middle of a completely shattered heart and at peace knowing that she is having one heck of reunion with her family and the rest of the saints.

She hung on for one year and one month from the time she lost Papaw.  I have talked to so many people who have been touched by her in just the last year.  Her nurse, who has become so dear to all of us, prayed with her this morning and she passed away 15 minutes later.  The Hospice worker told Dad that she had told one of the staff to go read Psalm 42 (still caring for others even at the very end.)  Her life was one of purpose and dedication and selflessness and I’m honored to have had her in my life for almost 37 years.  

I wish all of you all could’ve met her, but I hope through something I have told you about her or a picture you have seen, that you felt her beautiful spirit, even if you didn’t have the pleasure of meeting her. 


And p.s.  I asked her this week how to make gravy and she looked at me like I head three heads and exclaimed, “You mean you can’t make gravy???!”







Friday, March 14, 2014

Forsythias & Roses

March 14, 2014
Today is the one year anniversary of finding my birth mother.  I kept notes along the way and thought I'd share a few of those today.  The last year has been an incredible journey full of amazing discoveries and amazing rediscoveries.  

"Adoption carries the added dimension of connection not only to your own tribe but beyond, widening the scope of what constitutes love, ties, and family. It is the larger embrace."-Isabella Rossellini

1-4-13
I filled out the necessary forms that will be submitted to the Virginia Department of Social Services.  I don’t know if these forms ever existed when I began my search in 1996.  I have my information in a folder up in the attic.  I’m going to go up there this afternoon and see what I can find.  I think I remember sending a letter to the Covington DSS basically saying that I give my consent to be placed in connection with my birthparents if they ever came looking for me.  I actually think I typed that on a..wait for it…typewriter.  The internet was just coming into play in 1996.  Records weren’t kept in databases and there certainly weren’t any online search engines for reuniting adoptees and birth families.  
I also sent a letter to the Virginia Department of Vital Statistics under the exaggerated fabrication of “I’m doing a genealogical study” and looking for original birth information. 

1-5-13
I have so many questions.  Thirty-five years gives you a plethora of quiet opportunities to imagine what the circumstances of your life that you don’t know might entail.  I’m trying not to set expectations.  I know all of this could lead to an unhappy ending.  What if my parents aren't even alive?  What if they are never located?  What do I expect?  How can you NOT want the fairy tale ending, no matter how much you tell yourself not to set any expectations?  And what are these impossible expectations that I won’t set anyway?  If I could imagine who my birth parents are, what would that even be?  I’ve never even allowed myself to imagine a father.  I’ve imagined a mother at different times in my life.  I was in a jewelry store in Bluefield, WV one time and I saw a woman who immediately struck me as someone who looked like me.  That was the first time in my life that I had encountered someone who I thought looked like me and that was the first time I let my mind travel to the possibility that there is somebody out there who I might look like…

1-13-13
“The truth is what you live through while you're looking for the truth.” ~Marty Rubin

1-15-13
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 
-Robert Frost
 Always been a favorite poem of mine.  Today I claim it for myself.

1-16-13
Home for a Bunny(a Little Golden Book):
Despite my desperate search for biological parents, I was put where I was meant to be. God puts us where we need to be and that's one of the things I'm learning throughout this journey.

And I never realized in all my 35 years of having that story read to me and reading it to my own kids...I never realized it as anything more than a bunny trying to find a home with other bunnies. Last night I saw it for the first time as a child searching to find acceptance and "likeness"--a good fit--a family. 

2-7-13
Settle down
It'll all be clear
Don't pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
You get lost, you can always be found
Just know you're not alone...
-Phillip Phillips

2-15-13

I was downstairs putting the laundry in and thinking about everything.
Roots.  I was thinking about what my adoption did to my "roots." I was thinking about how basically when I was born and taken away and given to somebody else how it was like severing the roots of a plant--and I was thinking about how after you do that, that the plant doesn't grow and thrive. It eventually dies.

Then I thought about the forsythia--my absolute favorite thing to see in spring. My daddy had beautiful yellow forsythias all down one side of our yard.
Do you know that you can literally cut a twig or a branch from a forsythia and stick it in the ground and it will grow...even without roots. And then it forms its own roots. 
I just thought that was kinda cool  I'm a forsythia.

3-13-13
The war you feel within - that restlessness, the unending uncertainty - is not to be dismissed, avoided, hated. That internal conflict is not dark, it is a beaming light trying to focus you, the rolling thunderous call of courage, the rays of greatness seeking to explode beyond your skin to touch once more the Spirit of Possibility.
-Brendon Burchard

3-14-13
I was in the beauty shop getting my hair done. I looked down at my phone and saw where I had a missed call from a number I didn’t recognize. There was a voicemail, so as I was sitting in the beauty shop chair, I dialed my voicemail and it was Social Services and asked me to call back. I called her back but she was in a meeting. You can imagine how long that next couple of hours seemed to me. I called her back around 2 pm and she asked if I was sitting down. She told me that she had found my birth mother. She said that my birth mother most definitely wanted to be contacted and gave me her phone number. That’s when she proceeded to tell me that she lived in Wasilla, Alaska! I just shook my head and thought…of COURSE she lives in Alaska.  *rolls eyes*
Social worker told me that I needed to be aware of the time differences in Alaska. When it’s 9 pm here, it’s 5 pm there. They are 4 hours behind us, so it makes for tricky communication.
"You know, sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it."~We Bought a Zoo

At 10 pm, I went downstairs and I dialed part of the numbers and I hung up.  And again and again for probably 30 minutes until I finally got up the courage to let it ring.  And I have never been so scared in my entire life. What on earth do you say to someone when you call them up after finding out they are your long, lost birth mother? She answered the phone and said “Hello, This is Rose.”   I said, “Hi Rose. This is Amanda Griffith. I think maybe you were expecting a call from me.” She was in complete disbelief. I said “This is the most awkward, scariest, most exciting thing I’ve ever done in my life” and she agreed. She was so happy to hear my voice. She had to put me on speakerphone so her husband could hear my voice. Emotions ran high. After that first awkward moment, we talked like we had known each other forever. She asked me what color my eyes were. She has blue eyes. My eyes are green. She asked if I had red hair. 0 for 2. Ha! I told her I was tall, long legs and she said she was too.  Things that normal mother and daughter know about each other from early on, we were just starting to discover. 
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3-14-13
Me
To roseloveshair@hotmail.com
Mar 14, 2013
I wrote this a few years ago on Mother's Day eve...Mother's Day has always been bittersweet for me.  I always hoped one day you'd get to read it.
Happy Mother’s Day from the adopted child…

I do not know you
Have you seen me?
In a crowd of people
Would we be able to see

That we are connected
In some cosmic way
By something we would do
Or something that we would say?

How old are you?
Are you even still alive?
Maybe you are fifty
Or maybe fifty-five?

Is your hair dark as coal
Or maybe laced with gray?
Do you remember back thirty-three
Years ago this day?

The only Mother’s Day
You would ever share with me
For you must have loved me so,
Because you set me free.

You carried me inside of you--
Nine short months is all we had.
With every kick and wiggle
Were you happy or were you sad?

I know not the reasons
You had to let me go
I am not certain
If I will ever know.

Do you think of me today
As I think of you?
Do you wonder where I am
Do you wonder what I do?

Do we look like one another
Do our voices sounds the same?
I wonder if you even know
That Amanda is my name?

Amanda means loveable
And rightly named was I,
For I love with my whole heart
And when it breaks I cry.

Do you have squinty eyes
When a smile glistens your face?
Is your life blessed with laughter
Or is that really not the case?

Is my Grandma still alive?
And what about my Dad?
Do I have brothers and sisters?
I want to know so bad.

I was raised by two people
Who thought I hung the moon,
I was far from perfect though
They would find out soon!

I had my share of rebellion
Got in trouble a time or two,
But all in all I wasn’t bad,
The exceptions were quite few.

I grew up and got married
And had three children of my own,
I wish there would’ve been some way
That I could’ve made that known.

I wish you were around
To talk and just to chat,
To do mom and daughter things--
Paint our nails and stuff like that.

I have love all around me,
But I have never felt quite whole,
I have always wanted to know you
In the deep depths of my soul.

So on this Mother’s Day night,
I will look at the stars above
Blow sweet kisses into the wind,
And send you Mother’s Day love.
~A

~Amanda Griffith
“There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, that can circumvent or hinder or control the firm resolve of a determined soul.”~Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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From: roseandarnie
To: amandaandkevingriffith@yahoo.com
Sent: Fri, Mar 15, 2013 14:55:05 GMT+00:00
Subject: Emailing: Family013

Your poem brought me to tears and made me so proud. I don't think there ever was a day that my thoughts about you didn't cross my mind. I cannot wait to get to know you and your family. Your family is beautiful and so are you. Your daughter looks alot like me when I was that age. Emotions here are running at full capacity, as so they should. Take care Amanda and thank you for reconnecting us. Love Rose

----- Original Message -----
From: roseandarnie
To: amandaandkevingriffith@yahoo.com
Sent: Friday, March 15, 2013 5:50 PM
Subject: Happy
I am home from work. Let me tell ya, you never left my thoughts all day. I feel like screaming to the world how HAPPY I am that you have come back into my life. I had an hour break today  so I drove to my girlfriends work to tell her about you. CRY,CRY,CRY,HAPPY,HAPPY,HAPPY.  Love Rose
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Me
To roseandarnie
Mar 15, 2013
Aww :) 
I'm so happy too.  I shared the news with some of my closest friends today and everybody was crying :)  I have held it together pretty good until Tracy told me about how she used to rub cocoa butter on your belly and how you guys have a picture of me!  You are probably the only person who has the picture.  I never remember seeing a picture from the hospital. I am absolutely exhausted tonight.  I think I slept about 3.5 hours last night, so I'm going to get snuggled in.  It's almost midnight here.  What's your favorite color?
Sleep well.
Love, A
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