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A New Family Picture

Date: May 6, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Life is a rough biography. Memories smooth out the edges.” (Terri Guillemets)

Prior to my 2009 nightmare, I won a free 16×20 portrait at a charity auction. I had forgotten all about it, but as I packed to move, I found the coupon. I thought it was a timely discovery: I was moving and wouldn’t be able to use it after I moved away–at that time, I couldn’t imagine when, or if, I’d ever come back, if even for a visit. I was divorcing and didn’t have one picture of just my children and I to hang in our home. So I booked an appointment for a new family portrait.

We all got ready, wearing coordinating clothes, and drove to the portrait studio. It actually wasn’t any different, up to that point, than getting any other family picture taken had been. Except that even the youngest child was happy and in a good mood. (I had always been the one to schedule the appointment, choose the clothes, get myself and all of the children ready, and then He would show up, change, and go with us to the appointment–although He was usually stressed out about something and his stress would rub off on some of the children as we drove so that by the time we got there, things were a bit of a challenge. Then He’d do something to help everyone feel happy again, usually the promise of a treat afterward took care of it, so our picture experiences ended up being good memories. But His behavior was the reason we needed a treat afterward!)

I was excited that the picture was not going to cost us a thing at a time we had no money. I was excited to have a picture appropriate to hang in our home as we began a new life. Everything was going off without a hitch…until we were walking in the door of the studio.

My middle son, who was nine years old at the time, stopped, turned to me, and asked, “Wait. Where is Dad? Why are we getting a picture taken without Him?”

How do you answer that, at a time like that?

My poor boy. Every little thing about our unexpected life was so sad for him and hurt him. We couldn’t even get a picture taken without causing him pain!

It reminded me of something my oldest wrote in an essay at about the same age, only life, for him, was a lot different then: “I am like a camera taking pictures with my mind.” He was referring to happy memories, I think, and I couldn’t help but wonder what my middle son’s life camera was documenting for his future reference.

My challenge then, as it had always been, was to help my children create happy memories to record in the cameras of their minds. Only the material they were working with, the life they were documenting, had dramatically changed–and not for the better, I thought at that time.

But I had to help them do the best they could with what we had to work with. For them. And for me.

I had to hope that somehow, I could help them realize that, “Things that were hard to bear are sweet to remember.” (Seneca)

If you handle them right.

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Except For That One Time…

Date: May 5, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

In my limited experience as the mother of four children, there have been various challenges to address and “work on” as I teach and train them to grow to become all that I dream for them. One of those challenges is teaching honesty.

It seems like it’s a lesson that cycles. When they’re very young, the lesson is about not taking things that don’t belong to you, and it usually includes a trip or two BACK to a store to return something they’ve put in their pocket without my knowledge. As they grow and get a little older, the lesson becomes about always telling the truth–not lying to avoid a consequence; for example, not saying their homework is done when it really isn’t so they can go out and play with friends.

I’m still working on this with one of my younger children. Yesterday was no exception. In fact, the attempts to utilize every teaching moment are still in place and are actually more vital than ever because I work full-time and my time with my children is limited by my work. (But again, I am not complaining. I am grateful to have a job.)

As we discussed the importance of honesty at all times, in all things, and in all places AGAIN, and set a goal to strive for that AGAIN, and then as my son walked away to play after we chatted, I couldn’t help but remember one particular moment in 2009. A moment I’d been tempted to lie. It had been a moment among all moments for me. A challenge to my personal integrity and honesty. And until today, I wasn’t sure if I had been a failure or a success.

Here’s what happened.

The day of my move from Colorado to Utah was approaching. It was late afternoon and I’d taken a break from packing to let my three-year-old play outside. He was riding his little bike at the top of our driveway and I kept an eye on him, sure that we were being watched by neighbors as we did so, but I was getting quite used to living in the glare of the spotlight…and the binoculars…and under the hostile gaze of those around me. I had learned to do my thing, to do what I thought was right for my children (and even smile, occasionally, to give the appearance that I was having fun doing it) and to ignore those who spent their time watching me do it!

Soon a neighbor wandered up the driveway, trying to look nonchalant but headed my direction. (This neighbor had not been a client of my spouse’s, but had been very vocal in the media and willing to be interviewed about the situation as she saw it. Her home was the scene of the neighborhood gathering the day the U.S. Marshalls seized the items from our property; her husband was the man who photographed the goings on at our home as he leaned over the fence to do it.) I couldn’t imagine what she wanted to talk to me about. I soon found out.

She wanted to know when I was moving, wanted to know the exact day. She wanted to know where I was moving to, the exact city. She wanted to know how I had a place to live. She wanted to know where I was working, the name of my company and where it was located. She wanted information and details. And although she hadn’t been willing to talk to me through the rest of the nightmare, or even offer a smile or a wave, she was willing to ask me everything she wanted to know.

I was caught off guard. By that point, I panicked whenever anyone approached me, especially a neighbor! I hadn’t expected anyone to talk to me. And I certainly didn’t expect anyone to press me for answers about my personal plans and business. But press she did. When I tried to politely respond in a vague manner, so as not to appear rude, she didn’t quit. She asked for direct details.

I felt like a deer caught in headlights. I hate that feeling, yet it feels like that was my position a lot during 2009! (I guess you could say 2009 was my hunting season. lol.)

I knew why she wanted the information. The victims were circulating a daily email, I’d heard about it from the government and some victims that had received it and didn’t want to be included on it. It basically was a communication of ANY bit of information, even private information about my life or marriage–including things I’d told friends in confidence–ANYTHING they could discover from anyone. And then they published it to, what seemed like to me, the world. (I guess you feel that way when things shared in confidence are not kept that way.)

But then again, what was a little more humiliation in what had become the ultimate humiliation–discovering your spouse had been running a ponzi scheme, had stolen millions of dollars from friends and neighbors and family and strangers, that your spouse was going to prison, that your spouse had told hundreds of lies everyday to you and everyone else, that your children would have a relative in prison…and that all the while, you NEVER HAD A CLUE?

If I hadn’t been so terrified of what would happen should all of that information about my move get out, I could have laughed about the insanity of a non-victim neighbor actually doing what she did. But there was some degree of risk to my situation. For example, the head investigators constantly checked with me to make sure I felt safe from my neighbors. They told me if there was ever a problem to call 911 immediately. They insisted it was necessary they come to my home and supervise my move to protect ME from my neighbors on moving day. Etc…

And if I hadn’t been raised to be polite and honest, the conversation would have gone differently, too. But instead of lying or saying something rude, which I was tempted to do, I didn’t dare do it. I tried to answer her questions, vaguely, and then when she pressed me and pressed me for more details, I honestly answered with the truth! I SO did not want to tell everyone what was going on with me and what my plans were. I didn’t feel it was their business and I wanted to safeguard that information for my actual, physical safety was well.

But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t ignore her. I couldn’t lie. I couldn’t even tell her to mind her own business!

She walked away after she had discovered what she wanted to know and, I assume, share with everyone. And I went inside my house and threw up, literally, wondering if I had put the last nail in the coffin of our fate by honestly answering questions that were not anyone’s business but mine.

I wondered if I had just sold out my chance to rebuild a life somewhere else at the price of my unwillingness to be rude. I wondered if I had just sealed the fate of the physical safety of my children by refusing to lie.

“WHY couldn’t I be rude? WHY couldn’t I lie even once?” I thought. I was sick at my inability to do what I thought was wrong, at even the possible expense of my children. What kind of mother does that? I wondered.

I was so sick at what I had done, although I felt I had done the right thing, and then I finally had to force myself to let it go because I couldn’t change anything about what had happened. I decided to trust that something good would come of my choice to continue to do what was right in spite of the possible negative consequence to me and my children. I hoped we would be safe until we moved, but you don’t get to pick the consequences of your choices, good or bad. I just hoped it would be a consequence I could live with! Literally.

“We tell lies when we are afraid…afraid of what we don’t know, afraid of what others will think, afraid of what will be found out about us. But every time we tell a lie, the thing that we fear grows stronger.” (Tad WIlliams) Although I hadn’t lied, I had no reason to be afraid anymore. The truth was out, come what may. And aside from people entering my home late that night when my daughter was home alone and they thought we were gone, no danger to my children and I resulted from my truthful revelations that I know of.

The rudeness I was tempted to respond with, or a lie to protect my children, might have eased some temporary discomfort but I believe this with all of my heart based on that day’s experience: “A lie will easily get you out of a scrape, and yet, strangely and beautifully, rapture posesses you when you have taken the scrape and left out the lie.” (Charles Edward Montague, “Disenchantment”)

That’s the challenge isn’t it? Of life. Of anything.

I have always believed that.

In 2009, I continued to live that–at my peril. Because my parents taught me, “Honesty is the best policy,” and that as Shakespeare wrote, “No legacy is so rich as honesty.” I had always tried to live that way. And given my current financial situation, that may be the only legacy my children will have to inherit from me! lol

I’ve never doubted the wisdom of that…except for that one time in 2009.

But looking back, I am honestly grateful I didn’t cave in to rudeness or fear and act on my temptation to “lie” that day to save my children and I from an unknown flood of hatred and potential danger. I think it was the right decision: “Slander cannot destroy an honest man–when the flood recedes the rock is there.” (Chinese Proverb)

Example is the best teacher. And I’m trying to do all I can to teach my children what they’ll need to know to navigate the very uncertain waters of life, unexpectedly.

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Drive.

Date: May 4, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

In the spring of 2009, after I entered the beginning phase of my unexpected life but before my divorce was final and I moved to Utah, my oldest came to me and invited me to go for a drive with him.

It was dark, late at night, but you never turn down an opportunity to spend time with your children. Especially at their invitation. Especially living through what we were living through. We were all we had.

We got in the car, he drove, and he headed away from the city lights toward the rural areas near our neighborhood. Pretty soon he spoke. “Mom,” he asked. “Do you WANT to move to Utah?”

Clearly, the move was on his mind and I couldn’t blame him. He was one of the few kids today who had lived in the same house, with the same schools and friends, never moving, everything the same, since he was eight months old. And now we were moving to begin a completely new life his junior year of high school in another state. Not quite the ideal time for such change. But then again, is there ever an ideal time to lose your entire life and everything you have ever known? At barely 16 years old?

How did I answer that?

With the truth.

I told him I’d been a Colorado resident since 1974 and had lived in the Denver area, with the same phone number, for 20 years. The only time I had left Colorado since then was to attend college, and even then, I loaded the moving van THE DAY I graduated from college and returned to Colorado. I reminded him I had built my entire adult life in Denver and living in Colorado was all I had ever really known. Most of my friends were in Colorado. Would I choose to leave all of that? Would I willingly do it if I didn’t HAVE to?

No.

But the job I desperately needed and had been hired to do (and was grateful for) was in Utah. Try as I had to stay in Colorado, everything had worked out for a new life in Utah. I had come to realize and accept that. I truly FELT that Utah was where we were supposed to go, for some reason.

My son looked at me with a shocked expression. (I guess I hadn’t complained enough about all of the changes and the move because he hadn’t realized the move might be hard for me too.) But it seemed to help him to know that the move was difficult for me too.

Kindred spirits in our grief.

So we made the move. It would be less than truthful if I didn’t admit IT WAS HARD. There were moments I wondered if my oldest would be scarred for life from the experience. It terrified me when I’d make the last round through the house late at night, before I went to bed, and I wouldn’t find him in bed. (That happened several times.) In a panic, I’d search the entire house and not find him. And then I’d eventually discover him outside, in the dark of the warm summer night, on the front lawn sobbing his grief.

It killed me. I couldn’t help but join him. All I could say through my tears was, “I’m sorry. I am SO SORRY that this is the life I have given you. I wanted more for you. You deserve more. But I promise you, I am here for you and will do anything I can to help you. Someday it will be all right.”

But inside I wondered how it, and he (and if I’m being totally honest, me, too) would ever be all right.

We endured the slow start to adjusting and making friends in a new state. We endured all that switching high schools entailed. It was hard for him to let go of his old life. Not the money–the life, the friends, the place he lived, the activities he participated in, everything BUT the money, actually. He felt as if he had lost everything.

In a way, I guess it was good for me. At the time I was so sick with worry about my children and helping them get through their experiences, I couldn’t really even take a moment to think about myself. I had to focus my effort and energy into helping my children make the transition, and as I did, somehow I made it right along with them.

Fast forward several months. And that same son came to me and told me he liked Utah. And then one day he told me he liked his new high school better than his old one. And then he told me he was happy and felt completely normal! I knew, then, that we had arrived. And everything really would be ok. All right.

Fast forward a few more months. And last night, my son got home from work at 11 p.m. and came to check in with me. The house was quiet, everyone else was asleep, and he invited me to go for a drive. All I could think about was the last drive I remembered taking with him. In Colorado.

I must have looked surprised, maybe even hesitant, because he entreated, “Come on, mom. I haven’t seen you all day. Lets talk.” You never turn down an opportunity to spend time with your children. Especially at their invitation.

We got in the car. He drove.

He talked to me about life and his contentment, happiness and joy with all of it was evident. He asked me about my life, and I told him how good my life is, but did share one small worry with him. He stopped the car, smiled at me, put his hand on my knee, patted it, and told me it would be all right.

And it will be.

Both he, and I, know it.

We just keep driving. And eventually, everything IS all right.

Our destination? Peace, happiness and joy…in our unexpected life. All right.

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Some Bright Spots

Date: May 3, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

The events of 2009 showed me, again, that life goes on in spite of the trauma, and that even in the darkest times, there are still bright spots. Sunshine. Here are a few “rays” that stand out in my mind.

For one, despite how I felt on the inside as I navigated the morass that was now my life and world, the sun continued to shine, blossoms and flowers bloomed, and birds sang. And I was fortunate enough to have eyes to see it, ears to hear it, and olfactory senses still mostly in tact (after breaking my nose I don’t smell things QUITE well as I used to) to smell it all!

Then my middle son had a pinewood derby for cub scouts. For the first time in our family’s history, my spouse put A LOT of work and effort into helping a son make a pinewood derby car. My son went to the derby and did so well he made it to the district race. He was struggling so much with the demise of our family and life, getting to go to a championship race was truly a bright spot for him.

The pinewood derby win also gave me what I thought was a brilliant idea. I had my spouse cut out 5 car shapes from pinewood derby car kits, I put them back in the boxes, taped them shut and put them away for future pinewood derby events for my two youngest sons. I thought that would allow them to feel their father was involved in a future event in their life AND it saved me from struggling through a disaster should I be forced to have to try to help with the creation of a pinewood derby car. (Of course, then we moved to Utah and found out they weren’t doing a pinewood derby–they were doing space ships. You win some, you lose some. But this single mother is prepared for any future pinewood derby!)

My son also had a wonderful school teacher who went out of her way at school, and after school hours, to be there for him, cheer him, and share things with him to totally make his day. Not to mention some really good friends and their families who took him in as their own, allowed him to spend a lot of time in their homes and with their families, and helped him take his mind off the events going on in our family.

Another bright spot was seeing my oldest son score goals at his hockey games. I thought, “You know, his life is tough right now but I am SO thankful he can have a temporary lift when he steps out on the ice and plays. And as an added bonus, he gets to experience the exhilarating feeling of scoring!”

Sometimes I felt my children were being blessed with special achievements or accomplishments they might not otherwise have received…as if they were being given some “compensation experiences” to help them have some happy moments amid the trying time of losing everything they had known.

Other bright spots came in the form of employment for my two oldest children. Money was mostly non-existent for our family and times, economically, were tough everywhere. But my son got hired at Cold Stone and my daughter was asked to nanny and babysit nearly every day of the week. Both children were able to help us provide the things we needed and they were very generous to offer, of their own volition, the money they earned to help support our family. (My children amazed me. And continue to amaze me. Not every teenager thinks like they did.)

In fact, my oldest has pressured me many times in the year since our new life began to allow him to get a job working many hours each week outside of school–so he can earn the money, and pay me, the child support I am not receiving because my former spouse is in prison and unable to work. It is my opportunity and blessing to love and provide for my children–I would never have them pay for the privilege of being my family and having to endure me as their mother! lol. However, it has been a bright spot for me to see the growth and maturity my oldest children have displayed in our unexpected life. Those early glimpses into the amazing adults my children are becoming has certainly been a highlight of the past year for me.

I also attended a meeting of the women’s organization I had been president of and the new leaders presented me with a beautiful bouquet of flowers and thanked me for my service. It was very touching to me and a welcome ray of happiness during a difficult time in my life.

And lastly, in addition to everything many, many women and friends did to help and support me at that time, one of my most touching experiences was the Sunday two friends stopped me in the hall at church and presented me with a beautiful quilt they had made, comprised of squares embroidered by individual women and friends for me. Everyone embroidered their name on a piece of it.

A tangible reminder of many names, and friends, who loved me and served me in the most shocking, dark and difficult time of my life. Truly, the people who crossed my path and touched my life over the nearly 20 years I lived in Colorado were some of my brightest experiences.

No matter how dark, there is always a bright spot.

I had many.

Looking back, a bright spot was also coming to this realization, as well: “Like a plant that starts up in showers and sunshine and does not know which has best helped it grow, it is difficult to say whether the hard things or the pleasant things did me the most good.” (Lucy Larcom)

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We Press On In Spite Of The Red Stuff

Date: May 2, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I met my cousin and her husband for breakfast yesterday.

Like all of us, in the course of their almost 24-year marriage and raising four children, they have experienced a very fair share of their own adversities. But I loved their life philosophy and had to share it: “As long as everyone is conscious, and there is no blood, we’re ok. We can get through anything!”

When faced with a challenge, they take stock of the situation, make sure everyone is conscious and the blood is taken care of, and they press on!

It’s a good perspective to have and a good way to face life and its unexpected growth opportunities.

It works, too. (Except maybe for parents of sons who play ice hockey and lacrosse! lol. Then you play on in spite of the blood!) I remember attending one of my son’s basketball games and his best friend, who also played ice hockey with him, got hit in the face. Blood was gushing everywhere. The refs stopped the game, the boy was taken out and given first aid while the court was cleaned. To everyone’s surprise (except my son, who has the passion for hockey of Joe Sakic and other professionals) the boy returned shortly, gauze hanging out of each nostril like some kind of deformed unicorn-type creature, demanding to go back in and play. The adults were dubious about letting the boy play but my son and others said, “It’s ok! He’s a hockey player!”

They let the boy back in the game and he played his heart out. So I guess sometimes we press on in spite of the red stuff too.

“Victory at all costs, victory in spite of terror, victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory there is no survival.” (Winston Churchill)

And as an added bonus, sometimes we even win the game.

Victory!

“Victory belongs to the most persevering.” (Napoleon Bonaparte)

Life.

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Keep Climbing

Date: May 1, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I read yesterday about a young woman who was volunteering in Haiti at the time the earthquake that killed 230,000 hit.

Her name is Christa Brelsford and she struggled under the rubble of the earthquake until her brother, school workers, and a teenager were able to dig her out. She was flown to Miami for treatment, where doctors amputated her right leg four inches below the knee. She endured four additional surgeries but is back again pursuing her passion–rock climbing. (I couldn’t help but think what a great metaphor that makes for turning stumbling blocks into stepping stones in her life!)

Her fiance proposed marriage while she was in the hospital, she has started a non-profit named Christa’s Angels to rebuild the school she was volunteering at prior to the earthquake, and she is back to rock climbing for real. One friend of hers said, “She has a tenacious spirit–and she’s using this opportunity to help.”

What character it takes to do that. To use the opportunities we are blessed with to “help” others AND to help ourselves become better people than we would otherwise have been. I totally believe it’s possible. Christa said, “You don’t choose what happens to you, but you can choose how you respond.”

How amazing if all of us, when thrust into trying circumstances beyond our control, could act and think like Christa. That is MY goal and that is what I am trying to teach my children too: to make good choices as we respond to the things that happen, unexpectedly, in life–knowing that if we do that, greater character develops and is refined into something more glorious than it could otherwise have been.

Thanks to a friend and blog reader, Shari, for sharing this brilliant thought on character with me, spoken by an amazing woman who achieved greatness despite the circumstances of a very challenging life: “Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved.” (Helen Keller)

SO, thank you 2009 for the many and varied opportunities I was given to better my character. Thanks to all of those who belay me on the cliffs and climbs, then and now.

Go, Helen! Go Christa! Go, all of us! as we travel our paths and ascend our personal cliffs to character and eventual greatness in spite of it all!

Keep climbing.

Keep smiling.

Keep looking for the good.

Eventually you’ll reach the summit.

And you won’t BELIEVE the view!

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So Famous I Had My Own Paparazzi!

Date: April 28, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Have you ever been so famous, or perhaps infamous is a better word in the case of the Merriman family, that you had your own paparazzi?

I have.

And in case you were wondering, no, it isn’t as fabulous as it sounds.

During the events of 2009, after my spouse revealed the crimes He had committed and prepared to go to prison and as I prepared to leave the only life I’d ever known, we were blessed with our own paparazzi. Our own totally amateur and unprofessional frenzied followers, but our own paparazzi all the same.

My spouse handled it by becoming a mole. He stayed indoors, only went out at night, and kept a low profile. I don’t know that I “handled” it at all. I was simply appalled. So great was my horror of what some had degenerated to doing, I didn’t want to be like them in any way. So I continued to attempt to live my life and hold my head high as I did it. It was effort, let me tell you. To hold your head up when you’d really like, instead, to crawl under a rock!

“When you have the paparazzi hiding in the bushes outside your home, the only thing you can control is how you respond publicly.” (Portia de Rossi)

As we came and went, we’d see neighbors holding cameras, photographing us. And it seemed like every day, the government called us about something the neighbors had complained about. One day, the U.S. attorney called to ask about all of the boxes we’d been hauling out of our house. The problem? We hadn’t hauled any boxes away. But friends had hauled empty boxes to us so we could pack!

Another day, a government official called to say the neighbors had complained about me “hanging out on my porch and having fun.” They reported to the government that it looked like I was having fun and that made them mad! I could tell the government official was disgusted, and I admit, I hung up the phone and shook my head. WHO, in their right minds, would EVER look at me and be dumb enough to think I was enjoying myself? Sure, it’s a total dream come true to be hated and persecuted when you’re innocent. Yes, I LOVED to know I’d been lied to and betrayed for nearly 3/4 of my 20 year marriage. It was WONDERFUL to lose my money, home, cars, things, and life, and to lose it all so publicly. I was having the time of my life!

One day a government representative dropped by to check on things. Friends were in short supply, and he must have known it or saw the hungry desperation for a kind word in our eyes, because he generously stood in the entryway of our home and chatted for a few minutes before he left. As we talked, he got a text, checked it, gave a snort of disgust and shook his head. When I asked if everything was ok, he revealed the text. It said, “We saw you go in to the Merriman’s house and you haven’t come out yet. What is going on? Is everything all right?” I couldn’t believe it. I thought, “What? Are they going to accuse the Merriman family of murder, now, too?” It was crazy!

On July 4, 2009, instead of the usual holiday celebration, our family was forced to stay indoors to avoid the cameras, questions and complaints of neighbors. The holiday was a total bust. And of course, all my little boys wanted to do was light sparklers. Their dad absolutely forbid it due to the actions of our neighbors. Finally, at 10 p.m., it was completely dark outside and I couldn’t take it anymore. I took my children outside to light a few sparklers. After they each did about four, their dad made them stop and go back in to the house. My heart broke for innocent children who were even denied the childish pleasure of sparklers in the driveway of our home!

A few nights later, I was out front with my three year old. We were watched so closely I assumed all of the neighbors knew, but I guess they didn’t, because shortly I heard a “click-click-click” sound, looked over, and one of my non-victim neighbors was learning over the fence between our houses and photographing my car, my open garage door and all of the contents inside. I snapped. I said, “EXCUSE ME, can I help you?” He jumped about two feet in the air. Startled. And after accusing ME of stealing money from my neighbors, turned and hustled into his house as fast as he could go.

I continued to be watched like a hawk, even the day I moved from Colorado to Utah. After I arrived in Utah I found it had been circulated around the neighborhood the exact time I drove away. A friend called to let me know she heard I had driven away at 12:23 p.m. (That was right on, by the way.)

Paparazzi.

“The only thing I think I can be accused of about paparazzi is being really naive. I didn’t think about it coming along with the job and I never…fantasized about one bit of it.” (Paul Bettany)

I SO get what he’s saying.

The insanity of notoriety, for whatever reason or due to whatever cause.

Paparazzi.

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If Only…I’d Stayed Out Of The Batting Cage!

Date: April 27, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Yesterday’s post was titled, “Good News.” A friend of mine, and a reader of this blog, made some hilarious comments about baseball bats and having batting practice in my old neighborhood. (She is a character–as anyone who knows her knows! Thanks for the support and the laugh!)

Anyway, it reminded me of my most memorable experience with a baseball bat.

The day I broke my nose.

You see, He had just purchased a batting cage and pitching machine and my spouse installed it in our back yard. (I know, I know. Based on what I now know, it was most likely “purchased” with stolen money. And yes, I know, owning the same pitching machine used by the Colorado Rockies professional baseball team is a bit over the top for the average suburban family–which I thought we were–yet now I see NEVER were! What can I say? My former spouse never did things quite the same as everyone else. He was creative, enthusiastic and “over the top.” Thus, the pitching machine and batting cage in the back yard.)

Anyway, as soon as it was installed, He took me into it to show me how it worked. He told me where to stand, turned the machine on, and stood in there with me as pitches came and I hit baseballs. The speed was set at 30 mph. I turned out to be quite a slugger.

Within the week, a friend came over. He said he heard we had a pitching machine and he asked me to show him how it worked. I went out there with him, got in the cage with him, showed him where to stand, turned the machine on, and stood there as he hit balls. (I didn’t know a lot about baseball, or pitching machines, if you can’t tell. I was just doing what had been done when I was given a demonstration of the machine.)

My back was to him for awhile as I looked through the netting at the beautiful summer evening, flowers blooming, puffy clouds, hummingbirds flying. I must have turned around to watch him again right as he tipped a ball…straight into my nose.

The crack sounded like he had hit the ball out of the park!

Nope. Just into my nose. (I found out later my former spouse had gone in the batting cage and cranked up the pitching speed to 90 mph. He forgot to tell me.)

It actually didn’t hurt much at all (must have been the shock.) But I felt something begin to run, and worried about looking disgusting with blood running down my face not to mention not wanting to get blood on anyone, I put my hands to my nose to catch it.

My friend could have died. Can you imagine the poor guy? Totally not his fault, but there I stand, my hands filling with blood, and I was probably in a little bit of shock!

“Let it go, Andrea,” he said. I was doubled over trying to hide the mess I was sure was coming, but I managed a, “No! It’s going to be a mess.”

He said again, “Let it go, Andrea,” grabbed my hands, and I let it all go. (Another friend who was watching almost got sick. I could see it in his eyes, too. Poor guy!)

My friend walked me up to my house, and by the time we got there, both of us were a bloody mess. I went to the ER, I was told my options (fix it or not fix it) and sent home with an ice pack.

I’m totally a wimp when it comes to medical procedures, so I kept looking at my nose and trying to convince myself it wasn’t that bad, wasn’t that crooked, that only I could see the deviation because I’m such a perfectionist about some things. Like many infamous politicians, I “flip-flopped” back and forth. One moment I was going to have my nose straightened, the next moment I was not going to have my nose straightened. (Lets just say, if you saw the medical instruments they use to straighten a nose, you’d probably be tempted to leave yours crooked too.)

My college friend called when she found out, and she gave me great counsel about my life decision at that time. She said, “Andrea, we’re getting older. Changes are coming. There is not a lot we’ll be able to control or do about a lot of those things. Wrinkles are going to come and there is nothing you can do about them. But you CAN do something about your nose. You can choose to be old and wrinkled with a perfect nose, or you can choose to old and wrinkled with a crooked nose. Fix what you can fix so you don’t have any regrets when you’re old.”

She was so right.

I got my nose straightened. It actually took two tries because during the first attempt in the doctor’s office, I passed out (the doctor had a medical term for it and it scared him enough he didn’t dare attempt my procedure in his office, we had to reschedule in the operating room at a hospital!) And I counted my blessing that the ball had hit my nose and not my teeth! (I’d had braces twice already. What a tragedy, lol, if I lost my teeth after all of that hard work!)

Many things are handed to us in life that we have no control over and can’t really do anything about. Those things we let go–we gracefully endure and continue living in spite of their addition to our life. (And we try to find something good about our life, something we can be grateful for, even if it’s just the fact that we still have our teeth!:)

But SOME things we CAN “fix.” (Or at least give it our best shot at attempting to fix or make right.) And THEN we let go–we gracefully endure and continue living with or without them, depending on our success at fixing them. (And we try to find something good about our life, something we can be grateful for, even if it’s just the fact that we once had teeth!:)

And then we don’t look back. We press forward and carry on and look for the new day.

I heard a very wise man, Thomas S. Monson, once say something like, “The two most worthless words in the English language [or perhaps in any language] are ‘if only.’” He encouraged people to not look back or wistfully sigh about “if only,” but to look forward with hope, and make each day the best we can with what we are given.

Good advice for the outcomes in batting cages…and life!

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Good News

Date: April 26, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

When my life fell apart last year due to the criminal behavior of the man I’d been married to for nearly 20 years, a dramatic change in lifestyle was not the only side effect. As the months went on, I saw other changes. Here’s one.

My three year old, who’d been potty-trained well over a year prior to my spouse’s revelations, suddenly wasn’t anymore. (Let me apologize in advance for what is coming next: bathroom talk.) He didn’t have potty “accidents” in his boxers, he never did that, but he quit using the bathroom altogether. He chose, instead, to go on the floor of his bedroom!

I figured that as awful as it was, it was probably just a manifestation of the stress that was so prevalent in the air of our neighborhood and home that if you breathed in too deeply you almost choked! Literally. I assumed it would resolve itself when we moved. But I was wrong.

We moved to Utah and my little son continued the behavior in his new bedroom. I felt like I was becoming BFFs with carpet cleaners I saw them so often. But no matter what I tried, I could not get my now four-year-old to use the bathroom like the rest of us. It was a total mystery to me.

It had been quite a year. My son not only had been going to the bathroom on his bedroom floor, at least weekly he said “bad people” were in our house. He was afraid to be alone in any room of the house. He was afraid of the dark. He was suddenly afraid of so many things. And it wasn’t just our house, it was any home he was in. The babysitter had commented on how strange it was that he was so afraid in her home, too. I tried to help my son understand, each and every time he expressed fear of “bad people” in a house, that our home didn’t have bad people in it and we were safe. I emphasized that we prayed every day and that God would protect us. But nothing helped resolve his fear. That fear, too, was a mystery to me, along with his bathroom behavior.

Easter Sunday 2010, ONE YEAR LATER, the mystery was solved.

A friend and I were sitting in my son’s room, watching my son play a video game, and my son innocently offered the comment that “bad people” were in our house. My friend, hearing this for the first time, explained to my son that he was safe in our home and that “bad people” aren’t in our home. My son disagreed and insisted that in Colorado, bad people had been in our house.

THEN it hit me. Like a ton of bricks. THAT was why my son was afraid to leave his room to go to the bathroom! THAT was why my son was afraid of “bad people!” They had been in our home in Colorado, and my preschooler had known it, could not forget about it and had been traumatized for one year–25% of his entire young life–because of it. I had never put it together until that moment. It made my stomach turn.

As a mother, this issue and incident bothers me more than almost anything I’ve been handed in my unexpected life. I’m so bothered, in fact, that I choose to blame someone and I’m not blaming who you think I might. I am not blaming Him. (Ludicrous to the rest of His victims, I’m sure.) You know who I blame? The “bad people” who entered our home uninvited. I’m talking about the people who entered our Colorado home, while we were still in possession of it and living there, late one Sunday night when they thought no one was home.

They were wrong.

It was down to the wire, I was moving in a few days. In fact, I had a moving truck packed and ready to drive to Utah. Late one Sunday night, my spouse and I drove the packed truck to a friend’s house so the friend, who was traveling to Utah, could drive it for me.

My oldest son took his brothers to a friend’s house while we dropped the truck off, and my daughter stayed home alone to read. Our garage door was up, the house lights were mostly off, the house was quiet. Not totally responsible behavior on our part, probably, but you have to understand the rural and isolated neighborhood we lived in. Quiet, calm, fairly undiscovered and totally safe. We had never even owned a house key. We didn’t lock our doors–except at night when we were sleeping. We’d NEVER had a problem or a break in. No one had (that I’d ever heard about.)

So my daughter lay on the couch in our living room that night and read a book while she was home alone. At that time, our living room was the staging place for the move. As I got a box packed, I’d haul it to that room, and stack it until it was time to load it into a truck. Boxes were floor to almost ceiling in front of the couch and piano.

She was all alone.

Suddenly, she heard a door open and voices talking. She heard footsteps walking around on our wood floors. She heard boxes being moved, the sound of boxes being opened in another room. She heard conversation in hushed tones. The only thing she didn’t hear was a family member. She said she thought THEY would come after her if they knew they’d been discovered basically breaking and entering our home (lovely experiences my children were having, eh?), so she dove under the piano to hide. In her panic, she didn’t call 9-1-1 for help; she texted her older brother.

“Help me. Someone in house. So afraid.”

Her brother got the text. He thought she was goofing around. He texted back, “Funny. lol. Don’t joke about stuff like that.”

From under the piano, behind the packed boxes, she texted again, “I am not kidding. I’m scared. What if they find me? Help!”

Her brother says he made the 15-minute drive home in just over 5 minutes. Thankfully, his friend’s dad came too, to offer my teenage son support should it be needed. In the meantime, my daughter heard the footsteps walk around the main level of the house, a door open and close, and everything was quiet. Until her brother arrived on the scene a few minutes later and rescued her from her hiding place underneath the piano.

I arrived home shortly after the drama to have my three-year-old run up to me shouting, “Bad people are in our house!” They told me the story. I don’t even know how to communicate my thoughts about that moment. It sickened me. And although I’d tried for several months to rise above the pettiness time after time after time, I was finally disgusted and completely appalled…and angry. (I thought I was over it, until now, as I write about it. My chest is aching with disgust. That darn heart attack sensation is back! lol)

I never put the events of that night together with the potty issues we were dealing with until Easter Sunday this year. It explained everything!

The good news? I haven’t heard a single comment about “bad people in our house” ever since.

More good news? Not a single potty problem since the reassurance from our trusted friend.

Other good news? We are all healing. I know we each have our moments, every step forward is followed by the occasional step backward, but I’d say my children and I are each close to 100% healed from the trauma of our unexpected life.

And some of the best news? The heart attack sensation is gone again. Finally. And this time, I’m sure it will never come back.

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The Caterpillar Phase

Date: April 24, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I met one of my “oldest” friends for breakfast this morning. I have known her since I was 15 years old, and although we only lived in the same town for a little over a year, our friendship has endured all these years. She was my college roommate for almost three years and has been with me through thick and thin. No matter how long it has been since the last time we’ve seen each other, we are always able to pick up right where we left off. Today was no different.

We chatted about me. We chatted about her. We discussed our children. We talked about our jobs. We talked about life and the unexpected things that happen. We laughed as we reminisced about some of the good times we have shared. The time passed all too quickly (three hours just didn’t seem that long!) and then we had to part ways to attend the activities of our children. As I was partway home, she called my cell phone and asked if I was heading home. When I told her I was, she said she had something for me that reminded her of me, and was going to meet me at my house and give it to me.

She arrived a few minutes later and handed me a cute wooden plaque that said, “Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.” She told me as we sat and talked, and then when she saw that phrase, it reminded her of me. I was so touched by her thoughtfulness. We’d spent the morning together, and she thoughtfully added an extra 1-2 hours to her trip to share that gift with me.

I LOVE that statement on the gift she gave me! (And not just because it is true.)

Maya Angelou said, “We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.”

If you think about it, we are all caterpillars journeying through life. Each experience adds to what we are and what we are becoming until…we become butterflies. Beautiful butterflies!

My mom focused on inner beauty with her children. She’d always say it’s great if you have a beautiful appearance (and to some degree, we don’t get to choose that. If we have it, it’s because we inherited it from someone else!) but true beauty, the important beauty, the beauty that means something is inner beauty. She always encouraged us to be as “pretty on the inside” as she thought we were on the outside.

Inner beauty is not without price. Life happens, we endure challenges and the changes it brings, and if we handle it right, the changes can positively impact our inner beauty. My mom always told me we can use the challenges that come our way to help us become better than we would otherwise have been; we can let the bad things that happen to us refine us, and help us develop real and lasting beauty–inner beauty–or we can allow them to canker our souls and destroy us.

I truly believe THAT is the most important thing we can do when the going is rough: use the terrible experience to help us become better people. It isn’t easy, but it IS possible.

When the unexpected events of 2009 began, a friend called and reminded me that no matter how bad everything looked at the moment, and no matter how terrible I envisioned my future would be, she wanted me to know it was not going to turn out to be QUITE as bad as I feared. And she was right. On March 18, 2009, I absolutely thought my children and I were headed to live in a cardboard box somewhere. Today we live in a home. I thought the huge, gaping hole in our hearts would never heal. But they are. But we’ve had to look for the good; look for the beauty. And have tried to create new beauty out of a very different set of circumstances.

Life, even an unexpected life, can be beautiful. We just have to endure the caterpillar phase, and the chrysalis stage, and look for the beauty that unfolds as we endure and then triumph over our challenges.

And we must never forget this truth: “Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.”

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