Living Happily Ever After
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There Certainly Are Times…

Date: May 24, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“The days of our lives, for all of us, are numbered. We know that. And yes, there are certainly times when we aren’t able to muster as much strength and patience as we would like. It’s called being human.” (Elizabeth Edwards)

In case my inability to recognize I was married to a criminal living a double life for nearly two decades or my inept efforts at gardening haven’t been enough proof of this shortcoming of mine, that of “being human,” I offer the following recent example.

My carpool driver was out of town. My college age son had a doctor’s appointment. My high school daughter had a track meet. My middle son had a scouting activity. And that meant I had a kindergartener getting released from school at 3:30 p.m. with no one to pick him up or supervise him. I’d just left my family for 5 full days for work, so I left work early to pick up my son as no one else could looked forward to spending an extra, early hour with him as a result. I was so excited for the quality mother and son time! I planned to take him to a park and enjoy the sunny spring day and yet, despite my good intentions, when I left my job early that one afternoon to pick up my son, I worried that my boss was bothered that I had done so. (He’s a good man, family oriented; he didn’t say anything, he didn’t act a certain way, it may have just been working mother guilt–where you feel like you’re shorting your family or your employer, but never that everything is in balance! Any other working moms ever feel that way? Anyway, I felt like my boss wasn’t happy I was leaving an hour early.)

But I left anyway, deciding corporate wrath couldn’t hold a candle to a lone and unsupervised kindergartener wandering the city streets alone, trying to find his way home all by himself. (Who knows WHAT could happen in a scenario like that, huh?) But my son wasn’t waiting for me after school like he should have been.

“Dumb, forgetful me! I must have the date wrong, carpool has probably already come and gone,” I thought, so I drove home and arrived to find…an empty house. I raced back to the school, worrying that my son would now be the last kindergartener waiting for his now late mother but…my son wasn’t waiting. I went into the school office, expecting to find my son waiting there while the secretary called for a ride home for him but…he wasn’t there either. I also checked the school grounds, his classroom, the bathrooms but…my son was nowhere to be found.

I blamed myself: “He must have tried walking home  and in my panic to make sure I picked him up on time, I must not have seen him on the sidewalks. I probably drove right by him! What a terrible mother I am to not see my son,” so I dashed back to my car, drove the route from school to home again, expecting to see my son along the way…and saw nothing. Not one child. That worried me, too. NO children walking anywhere?

I debated contacting the police as I drove back and forth from school to home and back again a few times, but never did find my son. I called my older children, neighbors, anyone I could think of to see if perhaps someone had given my son a ride that day but…no one had seen him. Crazy thoughts, worries, really began to kick in. Visuals of a kidnapped child haunted me, not to mention visuals of Andrea Merriman, appearing on national t.v. AGAIN—this time for not being able to keep track of a six-year old!

“What a loser the entire world will now believe I am!” I thought. “As if marrying a man who lived a double life and perpetuated a Ponzi scheme wasn’t enough, to now lost my child! If they thought I was dumb before, imagine what the world will think NOW!” I surmised. (Some unexpected revelations, like those revealed to me in 2009, leave their scars. You can see that I don’t have a totally normal first reaction to every life or parenting experience anymore. I mean, who ever thinks, when their child isn’t waiting to be picked up at school, that there is a tie-in to a Ponzi scheme? I confess, I try to control my reactions but I can’t seem to control the thoughts and worries that initially flood my mind at unexpected times.)

I made one last phone call home before calling the police and was informed my kindergartener had just arrived. I drove home, after searching for him for almost 2 hours, worried, but grateful he was safe; unsettled by the unhappy feeling I felt my employer had toward my early departure; and indescribably disappointed that the fun together time I’d planned with my son had been taken, instead, by the child hunt. I’d left work early, risked employer wrath and lost my son anyway…all for nothing!

When I asked my son how he’d gotten home and he lied. Instead he told me his carpool had driven him home. The truth? He’d walked home (wrong choice #1) but had stopped to play at a friend’s house (wrong choice #2) and apparently finally had the good sense to finally he was going to be in big trouble and thought a lie would save him—WRONG! (In fact, it was wrong choice #3, BIG WRONG CHOICE, to tell a lie!)

I lost it; grounded my son and sent him to his room to think about the wrong choices he had made. Followed by these immediate thoughts: I’m a terrible mother, I’m raising a juvenile delinquent, I’m not a capable enough woman to work full-time AND be a good mother, my youngest child is out of control, my children are being ruined by the choices their father made that left me with NO choices—the list, at that point, went on and on.) I saw no way out but to quit my job and devote my full attention to raising my family. Of course, with no money and no child support, that would necessitate going on welfare (something I never, ever expected I would be forced to do!)

I went to my room, lay down on my bed and indulged in some serious tears of defeat. Surprisingly, my oldest son walked into my room, smiled, shook his head and said, “Mom, in my entire life, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that mad. What are you going to do?” I answered, “Quit my job, go on welfare,” and began to detail everything that choice would result in. He advised, “I wouldn’t be so hasty, Mom,” and gave me the biggest and best parenting pep talk (including scripture quotes and other readings; he told me what a great person; what a wonderful mother I am; and he told me to hang in there as he offered his best 19-year-old wisdom and talked me down from the ledge of parenting despair and impatience I felt at my life situation.

When he was done I said, “Whoever would have imagined YOU would be giving ME a parenting pep talk?”  He smiled, laughed and said, “Mom, I’ve been doing that my entire life—just from the other side!”

True. But it worked.

Later, my husband arrived home from work, joined us on the bed and added his opinion of my parenting talents and I’m pleased to report I’ve mustered additional strength and patience and…am still employed. Still hanging in there. Still a mom. (Grateful to be one, as always, by the way, not to mention grateful for the brief glimpse of one son, mostly raised, who has turned out to be so good, wise and amazing in every way, it gives me hope that the others will become like him and follow in his footsteps IF I, their mother, keep at it.

The glory of motherhood.

“With what price we pay for the glory of motherhood.” (Isadora Duncan)

Speaking of Patience…

Date: May 22, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Knowing trees, I understand the meaning of patience. Knowing grass, I can appreciate persistence.” (Hal Borland)

Riddle of the day: What isn’t grass, but is not quite a tree? A bush. In my world, a peony bush—to be exact.

I wrote about my peony bush several posts ago; the bush I authorized my husband to remove for its failure to bloom (because life is too short to waste time not blooming!) Later I heard from a blog reader that I may have been too hasty, a little too impatient, with my slow-to-bloom bush as peony plants can apparently take 3-4 growing seasons after transplanting to bloom again. Oops. I guess I have more to learn about patience, huh? And a realization I’d come to, too little too late, to be of worth to my garden.

However the other day I was in the corner of the Utah garden where my peony bush had failed to thrive…and there it was! Bigger than ever, with flower blossoms looking ready to burst open at any time. (I’m not sure what plant my husband removed, but clearly it wasn’t the peony bush!) It goes to show, again, that, ”A little more persistence, a little more effort, and what seemed hopeless failure may turn to glorious success.” (Elbert Hubbard)

Pink and fluffy. Beautiful to behold. Lasting.

So if you haven’t achieved your happily ever after yet, don’t abandon your quest. Hang in there, work to bloom a little longer and it will happen. I know it. My peony bush, and my own unexpected life, are proof.

The Key To Everything

Date: May 21, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“The key to everything is patience. You get the chicken by hatching the egg, not by smashing it.” (Arnold H. Glasgow)

Recently, my youngest found a bird nest with an egg in it. I love birds, nests and imagining the possibilities in an unhatched egg and looked forward to checking the egg’s progress (from a distance) in the coming days—watching for a baby bird to hatch—with my son. I explained the plan and reminded him to leave the nest and egg alone so that nature could continue its course. He provided nest-and-egg updates for the next several hours until an “accident” occurred: the nest, and the shattered remains of what had once been an egg, lay on our front porch. My son attempted to blame the tragedy on a “strange bird that appeared out of the sky and then mysteriously disappeared” (coincidentally, never to be seen or heard from again after moving the nest and cracking the egg open) but the real culprit was my impatient six year old!

Impatience. Patience. The potential threat as well as the key to the success of an unexpected life. I remember thinking, when thrust into my unexpected life of extreme losses in every category, how is this all going to work out? How will any of this ever be made right? How will it be possible to ever be happy again? And the question of timing—when, how soon, how long will it take—was an even bigger unknown. Yet none of those questions are answered, or ever can be, without the important quality of patience because, “…all things are difficult before they become easy.” (Saadi)

It takes patience to master the difficult before it becomes easy. But with enough patience, every challenge can become a triumph, every time. Patience is the key: the key to endurance, the key to success, the key to triumph, the key to happiness. The key to everything? Patience. In fact, patience is genius.

Yes, “Genius is eternal patience.” (Michelangelo)

He ought to know.

A Good Kick In The Pants And A Season Of Growth

Date: February 14, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Each man should frame life so that at some future hour, fact and his dreaming meet.” (Victor Hugo)

Lest anyone think all that has been happening in the unexpected life of our family are boys making less than ideal choices—like ditching kindergarten and scheduling a playground fight with a  school bully via Facebook—we’ve witnessed a few dreams become reality, too!

Several months ago, we saw my oldest achieve a lifelong (since he was 5 years old) dream: to play hockey at the college level. I confess, the first time I saw my son skate onto the ice while the fans roared their support, I think I was probably the only person there with tears rolling down her cheeks! I couldn’t help it. Everyone else may have seen a tall, handsome, athletic man on ice skates, skating like the wind, fighting for the puck and working for a goal…but all I could see was a little preschooler so passionate about skating he never took off the blue Playskool skates he strapped to every pair of shoes he owned; the kindergartener who begged me to let him play hockey; the little boy who hounded his mother all day for what seemed like every day of the year to let him play hockey, until 5th grade, when I finally relented and enrolled him at Big Bear; and the enthusiastic boy who came off the ice after his first game so thrilled with everything about the sport he uttered words I never expected to hear come out of my ultra-competitive son’s mouth: “Mom! Hockey is SO FUN, it doesn’t matter if you win or lose, you’re just so thrilled to play the game!”

He never quit. He seemed to eat, breathe and sleep ice hockey from that moment forward. He was out practicing his shots or skating before school. He played against anyone he could get to put skates on. And long after the sun set, I’d hear him outside whacking the puck with an energy that never left him. His enthusiasm finally led us to install outdoor lighting so he could practice longer each night. And the day he played his first college ice hockey game was quite a moment. For him and for me.

It was a season of growth…for both of us. Last weekend, I watched my son play his last home game of his inaugural college ice hockey season. I was a lot more relaxed, there weren’t any tears, but I was still full of admiration for my son and all that he accomplished in making his college ice hockey dream come true.

It just took one dreamer. ”Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world.” (Harriet Tubman)

That, and a kick in the pants. Remember: ”Dreams will get you nowhere, a good kick in the pants will take you a long way.” (Baltasar Gracian)

True, for all of us. No matter the dream, no matter the unexpected opportunities you’re blessed with, you can go as far as you need to; as far as you dream to. Supplemented, of course, by the occasional, well-administered kick in the pants.

“Idiot” To Awesome…In 18 Years!

Date: July 28, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Any man can make mistakes, but only an idiot persists in his error.” (Marcus Tullius Cicero)

I’ve seen it over and over again in my life: when you live with someone, some adjusting and compromising is required for a happy home life. This is true for roommates, newlyweds, brothers and sisters, families and especially, blended families.

If you’re smart, you learn this natural law early and skip some of the strife failing to humble yourself and compromise with those you live with (and love) brings.

However, some accept change more willingly than others. Some adapt to the living arrangements more easily than others. Some seem more willing to compromise than others. And then there are a select few that seem to think if they resist long enough, if they refuse to compromise, said change (ie. life) will not be required!

Boy, wouldn’t that be nice? Like a cocktail party, to be served life on a platter prior to living it? To be able to say, “No thanks, I’ll not have some of that!” or “No thank you, I’ve had enough” or “I don’t want that change, so I don’t have to accept it!” or “I’m full. No more for me!”

Instead, we are blessed with life and change and unexpected lives and situations. Like everything else, though, I believe living together peacefully is a choice. It simply requires patience to wait (and endure) until others in the household choose to accept, adapt, adjust, compromise and settle in.

One day my oldest and I were chatting. He, as the oldest child in our household, has been very helpful and patient in helping younger children settle in to the new family situation. That day he commented on the struggle he observed one child having with some aspects of the blended household. I agreed with his observations and told him I had noticed the same thing but didn’t see any solution other than to continue to cheerfully and patiently endure the transition.

My son laughed and said, “Mom, sometimes I just want to make it easier for them and say, ‘Dude, give it up. You’re never going to win this one.’”

I asked, “What do you mean, ‘win’?”

He explained, “You know, get away with things that are wrong, inappropriate, disrespectful or against the house rules. It’s never going to happen.”

I clarified, “Oh? How do you know?”

He exclaimed, “Because you raised me! Mom, you’re one of THE strongest people I know. It’s a battle that can’t be won. I know, because I tried to ‘break you’ for 18 years and you never once ‘cracked’!”

I wasn’t sure how to take that, but before I could respond he added, “And I’m so glad and grateful you didn’t—because look how awesome I turned out!”

“Awesome: extremely impressive; inspiring great admiration; extremely good; excellent.” (Merriam-Webster Dictionary)

Yes, he is. And it only took…18 years. (Just kidding! Children are born “awesome,” they simply increase in “awesomeness” over the years. And if I haven’t said it lately, I’m grateful to be a mother:)

Horse Sense

Date: November 8, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I love it. The rich smell of horse poop, there’s nothing like it anywhere.” (Fern Michaels, Kentucky Rich)

Life is full of the unexpected. And sometimes you learn lessons in the most unexpected places and from the most unexpected things.

For example, when I was a girl, I learned I didn’t enjoy riding horses. I discovered this tidbit about myself the day I was riding a stubborn horse named “Ol’ Yeller” at my grandpa’s farm. I don’t know that she liked kids anyway, but I know for sure she didn’t like giving kids rides at feeding time.

I was on her back, doing my best to trot around the pasture with her, when my grandpa happened to walk by with her bucket of feed. She knew darn well what it was, and she made it clear that my ride was over. Down I slid into a pile of manure. “Rich” indeed.

Well, you can guess what I did. I wanted to quit. But my dad wouldn’t let me. He got on the horse and ran her up and down the lane a few times, before he made me get on with him for a quick ride, just so the horse (and I) would know who was boss; and that I was not a quitter.

I learned some important lessons that day. You might call it, “horse sense”–gleaned from “Ol’ Yeller” and a rich, brown, fresh, fragrant pile of manure.

“It is not enough for a man to know how to ride; he must know how to fall.” Falls are a part of life. And since you can’t avoid them, it’s best to learn how to fall. Preferably on your feet. But always prepared to pick yourself up and carry on.

“There are only two emotions that belong in the saddle; one is a sense of humor and the other is patience.” I can’t say it enough. In life, choose to laugh and you’ll always find the bright side–and something to be grateful for. As to the other–patience–a fair bit of that is required when things are unexpected. Besides, it’s a virtue!

“I sit astride life like a bad rider on a horse. I only owe it to the horse’s good nature that I am not thrown off at this very moment.” (Ludwig Wittgenstein) Like a horse, the unexpected life can throw us off at any moment. Watch out for manure! And be grateful for the moments you are in the saddle, and not thrust into anything unexpected, like the brown stuff you might slide into should you become unseated.

Lastly, “If your horse says no, you either asked the wrong question or asked the question wrong.” Lol. However, I do believe in trying to learn from mistakes or attempting to find the meaning in experiences. It helps make the unexpected life worthwhile!

Life Cycles…And Jewels

Date: April 1, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

You know, it’s funny how life cycles.

I’ve noticed how just when I think I have conquered a challenge in my life, or overcome a shortcoming, sooner or later life comes at me again, in a new way, and I get to refine myself even more in that particular area.

For example, patience.  I struggled with patience as a child, yet by the time I became a young adult, I felt I had mastered my temper and impatience.  I was patient.  All was good for a few years, and then I became a mother.  I developed patience in entirely new ways as a result of being blessed with children.  I was really patient.  All was good, and then I became the daughter of a mother with brain damage and personality changes as a result of strokes and health challenges and I developed new aspects of patience.  The list of life experiences that have helped me refine myself in the area of patience is long and continues…even with the events of 2009.

Honesty, however, is one area of my life I can honestly say (pun intended!) I have been close to perfect in.  My parents drilled the importance of honesty and integrity, in all things.  We were raised to be CHRISTENSENS, and as such, we had to be an example to others, we needed to be honest and live good lives, and bring honor to the good name our ancestors had passed on to us.

So 2009 was a shock to me.  I couldn’t believe the dishonesty one man was capable of.  I couldn’t believe I knew a person so dishonest–much less, was married to him! But what shocked me even more were fleeting thoughts I had.

I had been left in poverty, homeless, unemployed, and had four children depending on me for survival.  I would be dishonest if I didn’t admit to thinking, fleetingly, “I could hide something of value from the government.  I could try to hide something that I could sell to support my children.”

And then just as fast, I thought, “I have lived a life of integrity my entire life!  WHY would I throw that away now?  And for worthless THINGS that will stay here when I die?  I’m not going to sell MY soul for THINGS! I am honest, always have been, and I will remain honest even in this.”  I also didn’t want ANY of Him to have rubbed off on me.

I remembered a story from the life of  a good man named David B. Haight.  He played college football at the University of Utah and told of how he could have moved the football half an inch to win a championship game and no one but him would have known what he had done.  Instead, he chose to be honest and his team lost the game.

Sure there was a moment when I shocked myself with the thought to try to secure something for my children.  In fact, that was the moment that surprised me–I was an honest person, always had been, I didn’t expect to think even a thought about another alternative. I chose to remain honest.  I chose not to attempt to secure something for my children. I “didn’t move the football.”  (I even thought, “Maybe if I am 100% honest I will escape some hatred and persecution.”  That didn’t work out, to my knowledge, but I stand by my decision to remain honest!)

And really, the bank, the government, anyone could take my home or anything I owned, they could take my diamonds and other jewelry, but I would still have my jewels.  My children.  My children have always been my jewels.  And they are priceless to me.

So I did it.  Some would say I lost practically everything, and I did lose a lot materially, but I kept my honesty and integrity intact AND…I got to keep my jewels!

The price of integrity? Priceless.