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Moving

Date: March 16, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I replaced the headlights in my car with strobe lights, so it looks like I’m the only one moving.” (Stephen Wright)

I realized the other day that I’ve moved children in and out of the same bedroom three times in the same year. No wonder it feels like I’m the only one moving, or moving a lot, these days!

First, it was my middle son. Who got moved out so my husband’s son could move in with us. I know the move was hard on my son, especially after losing and moving from the only home and bedroom he’d ever known for almost 10 years, to a new home and bedroom in a new state, and then less than two years later being moved out of his bedroom once again. Compared to how some children would react in his situation, I admire my son for his good attitude and his willingness to sacrifice for someone else and for the good of the family. My husband hoped that a new dad in the house, a dad who would focus on the needs of “the one” (in this case, my son) would compensate for the necessary move. I think that has more than been the case. My son is better and happier than ever, although occasionally he wistfully reminisces about how much he liked that room! And his younger brother, my youngest, is already begging to be the next child to live in that room. It’s a popular room, I guess.

Then we moved my stepson in. The new occupant of the bedroom, almost 13 years old at the time but looking and acting a lot older than that in many ways, went from basically being an only child (his siblings hadn’t lived with him for several years) in a quiet bachelor pad with his dad, this son pretty much the center of his father’s universe, to one of now five children in a busy, loud home that, compared to the way he was raised, was an entirely different world and culture (I’ve said it before, and it’s true: different mothers=different family cultures, different values, different rules, different everything in our case). Poor kid. He lasted six months and went to live with his mother who had moved a few blocks away from us. (But that is another blog post in itself that will never be written! Lol. Lets just say while it is convenient for the child, I’m a woman who prefers boundaries and would never have chosen, had I had any input in the matter, to move that close to a former spouse or to have an ex-wife move that close to me. Just another of those remarriage “moments” my husband and I shake our heads and laugh about!)

The room was in limbo for a few months and then, lo and behold, my husband’s daughter was struggling where she was and needed a place to live. That bedroom of rotating occupants was available and just the thing. I gathered the last of the stepson’s personal items, moved them out, and got the room ready for his sister to move in. But that isn’t all I did.

I had learned a few things in that first year of marriage, remarriage, “blending” families, stepchildren, etc… Things were going to be different this time around. Before another child moved in, there was going to be an agreement made between the parents. ALL of the parents. And it was going to include, for the first time, the mother of the home the child would be living in. The stepmother. (Boo! Hiss!) Little wicked, little evil, little mean and nasty old me.

“Her evil stepmother is trying to get her married off to the Prince of West Muffin Land. Cinder is very unhappy, but according to the tale, her Fairy Godmother arrives to save the day.” (Ed Balthazar)

Stay tuned.

Second Marriage Moment #18: Family Vacation

Date: July 18, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“It would seem that something which means poverty, disorder and violence every single day should be avoided entirely, but the desire to beget children is a natural urge.” (Phyllis Diller)

Kids.

We have quite a few of them, thanks to our remarriage. Eight, to be exact. (Plus one daughter-in-law.) And we recently took all of them on our first family vacation.

It was quite a feat (not just the traveling as a group of 11 part, but in even pulling it off financially, not to mention coordinating the calendars of 11 different family members and 7 different work and vacation schedules to find dates that worked for everyone!) My husband, the two youngest children and I flew ahead of the rest of the group; the 7 teens/young adults flew to our destination a few days later. We met them at the airport.

I hugged my daughter and asked how her flight was. She reported the adventure of having a conversation with a woman sitting next to her on the airplane. Apparently, the group was seated in three rows of two, with my daughter sitting across the aisle from the group. The woman asked, “Are you traveling alone?”

My daughter replied, “No. I’m traveling with my brothers and sisters.”

The woman commented, “You’re a little young to be traveling alone, aren’t you?” She wanted to know who the brothers and sisters were. My daughter pointed to the three rows of passengers (ages 13-24) across the aisle and the woman was stunned to realize how large the group was. “There are so many of you— and no parents!”

My daughter explained, “Yes, our parents flew out early for our dad’s birthday.”

The woman nodded, knowingly, and said something about the parents getting away alone and leaving the children behind. My daughter clarified, “Oh no, our parents took the two youngest children with them!”

The woman’s face showed her surprise as she mentally calculated the total number of children that had to be connected to just one family, our family, and asked one more question, “Where are you from?”

My daughter replied, “Utah.”

Conversation over! I guess that state explained it all, because the woman didn’t talk to my daughter after that.

As my daughter related her travel experience, the others shared similar stories. The oldest daughter reported she’d also had a lot of strangers comment on the size of her family and said she handled all conversations with a quick explanation: “It’s a ‘Yours, Mine & Ours’ family.”

Not that I doubted their experiences, but I was surprised to have one of my own on the return flight. We boarded as a group and as we stepped on the plane, a flight attendant asked me, “Is this a family reunion?”

I shook my head and answered, “No, it’s just a family vacation.”

The flight attendant looked at me with big eyes, like she wasn’t sure she believed me. I added, “Really, we’re just one dad, one mom, eight kids and one in-law.”

Before I could explain further, the oldest daughter swooped in to rescue me with her well-practiced, “It’s a ‘Yours, Mine & Ours’ family.”

All I can say is that if fellow travelers couldn’t believe the size of our family, there’s something they would have to have seen to believe as well: the packed cars filled with all 11 of us, our suitcases and everything else the kids hauled on vacation.

Apparently, “Those that say you can’t take it with you never saw a car packed for a vacation trip.”

First Date

Date: May 21, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“If you’re a young Mafia gangster out on your first date, I bet it’s real embarrassing if someone tries to kill you.” (Jack Handy)

Who can forget their first date?

My mom fondly recalled her first date many times over the course of my life: she was 5 years old, and went to a movie at a movie theater with a boy and his parents. She was a friendly gal, and dated a lot during her childhood and early teens, and then it was recommended by L.D.S. church leaders that dating be delayed until the age of 16 so she stopped dating–until she turned 16 years old!

I remember my first date: Derek.

It was late August 1983 after I had turned 16 years old. The boy I’d had a crush on since the moment I first laid eyes on him (at 14 years old) had asked me out and my friend, Carrie, had come over to help me get ready. I talked and hung out with her while I did my hair and makeup and decided what to wear–and she gave me a pedicure, which I promptly covered up when I put my Topsiders on! It was the 1980s, so of course my hair was something to behold, and accented by the skinny tie (anyone remember wearing those?) that completed my ensemble. We saw the movie, “Strange Brew,” and had a great time. It was a first date with no regrets, or embarrassing moments, that I can recall.

My daughter’s first date was an entirely different experience: Eric.

She went to a school dance with the boy she sits by in Chemistry class, a fun and casual friend. Watching my daughter get ready, and helping her, was a total flashback to the 1980s as she was headed to a decades-themed dance and she and her date had chosen 1980s exercise wear. I helped her find a Jelly belt, tear her sweatshirt to hang off the shoulder, find neon-colored tank tops to layer, get her hair in THE  high side ponytail, with her green eyeshadow (what can I say, we couldn’t find any blue eyeshadow in the house!) and with her hot pink headband (just like Olivia Newton John’s in “Lets Get Physical.”) It wasn’t in the original plan that my daughter drive on the date, but due to car troubles of other parties involved, she ended up driving her car. And accidentally, while slowly backing up, she backed into a friend’s car.

It was dark. Neither she nor her date saw the other car. Thankfully, she backs up really slowly. Thankfully, no damage occurred to either car or to any living being. In fact, the driver of the other car got out, hugged my daughter and told her it was no big deal. I was very relieved there was no damage to people or automobiles; but my daughter was so mortified about the whole thing she wasn’t even dwelling on that. That event overshadowed every other aspect of her first date. That event was what she talked about when she got home. Even late the NEXT evening she was still worrying about it, alone in her bedroom, so I went to check on her.

She was absolutely humiliated, mortified, and didn’t want to show her face anywhere, ever, again. I tried to help her put it into perspective so I said, “Sarah, you can survive this. Just think of other hugely embarrassing things you’ve overcome.”

“Like what?” she asked.

I was stunned. Had the events of 2009 faded that fast in her teenage mind? I clarified, “Like discovering a family member stole millions of dollars, was heading to prison, it was all over the national media, we lost everything and had to watch the government come into our home and take our possessions, some people were mean to us, other people were kind to us yet we had to rely on the charity of others…ALL of those embarrassing moments we endured. If you can survive that humiliation, you can get through anything! This is nothing compared to that.”

Adding that last sentence reminded me that embarrassment and humiliation is all in your perspective. It was also a mistake; add it to the many that continually stream from my mouth, far too often, as I say what I think pretty much as soon as I think it. Call it one of my many weaknesses.

My daughter countered that her experience was far more embarrassing than the one I referenced. I was stunned! I couldn’t believe she really thought that, but she did. She drove her point home (no pun intended, lol!) when she added, “And Mom, if you think criminals, Ponzi schemes, publicity, divorce, prison, crime, government seizure and everything else is more embarrassing than backing into another car on a date…you don’t know ANYTHING about teenage girls!”

Wow. How could I have gotten so old and so far removed from being a teenage girl? And how could I have failed my daughter like that?

You see, one of the great things about being my mother’s daughter is that no matter my embarrassing moment, when I returned home mortified about something that had happened to me, my mom could totally commiserate and share an embarrassing moment from her life that absolutely outdid mine, made me laugh and made me feel so much better about my humiliation! In fact, she survived such mortification that as an adult, friends would call after something embarrassing and ask, “Tell me a story about your mom to make me feel better so I can get through this most recent humiliation.” I thought that’s what mothers are for–and I wasn’t able to do that for mine! (Although I must be blinded by my past, because I could swear 2009 is the ultimate in humiliation. I can’t see myself ever being embarrassed about anything again, after that one!)

So I quit trying to reason with my daughter, stopped attempting to help her put embarrassment into perspective and just empathized with her. I promised that someday, we will look back on her first date…and laugh; we’ll even be the better for it, and we’ll be strong.

“But I learned that there’s a certain character that can be built from embarrassing yourself endlessly. If you can sit happy with embarrassment, there’s not much else that can really get to ya.” (Christian Bale)

Now if we can only be totally hot when we have as much character, strength and wisdom as Batman, we’ll be absolutely set for…The Unexpected Life.

Why Wait?

Date: March 18, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“My kids always perceived the bathroom as a place where you wait it out until all the groceries are unloaded from the car.” (Erma Bombeck)

Or in the case of my younger sister, the bathroom is where you wait it out until all of the dinner dishes are done! (I’m sure I’ll hear from her on this one. But she KNOWS what I’m talking about:)

As an adult, since my engagement to #5, I’ve also been “waiting it out,” but unfortunately, couldn’t hide in a bathroom; I had to keep living my life.

What was I waiting for?

Marriage. To get married, to be exact. Actually, it’s THE reason for my “long” engagement and wait. Yes, the time to thoroughly get to know one another, to help our children prepare for the life change and blending of families has been very helpful. But the main reason for the wait is that I need authorization to marry where I wanted to marry.

As a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I believe in marriage (and family) and in beginning all of that by marrying in a L.D.S. temple. A temple is the place we believe covenants, and the ties that bind, are made not for just this life but for eternity.

To qualify for the privilege of going to a temple to worship, marry or participate in other ordinances you must have a temple recommend (a paper permit.) This is required not because what takes place in a temple is secret (it’s not secret), but because the ordinances performed therein are so sacred. To receive a temple recommend, you must live certain standards and then obtain the recommend/permit from your local clergy.

In a first marriage, you only need a temple recommend to be married and sealed to your chosen spouse. In the case of divorce, additional authorization beyond a temple recommend is required to remarry in a temple. Men and women sealed to previous spouses in a L.D.S. temple must obtain special permission to be sealed to a new husband or wife in a temple. The additional authorization is known as a cancellation or clearance of your previous sealing and it is in letter form. As both #5 and I had been married and sealed in a temple to our previous spouses, both of us needed additional authorization to remarry in a temple. And that letter of authorization to do so comes directly from The First Presidency of The Church. They are the only men who grant that permission.

It is a process that takes time. In fact, you never know how long it all can take to gather the required information, complete the interviews necessary and do everything else that is part of obtaining a cancellation or clearance to remarry in a temple. I think for that reason, most L.D.S. couples who remarry choose to marry civilly (not in a L.D.S. temple) initially, and then go to a temple approximately one year after their civil wedding to be sealed to one another.

But that’s not me.

For a variety of reasons, I guess.

My parents raised me to live a life that would allow me to marry in a temple, and I had always chosen to live that way. I hadn’t changed, I didn’t change the way I lived or what I believed in, just because my former spouse made the choices he did. Or because I was divorced or living an unexpected life. A temple marriage was still my ideal. For me, it was the place to marry–my only choice.

I was also raising my children to marry in a temple. I needed to remarry in the temple not just for me, but also as an example to them (especially given the “example” the other Merriman parent had set.)

We began the application process that would allow us to marry in a L.D.S. temple within weeks after we got engaged. We just never realized how long it would take.

“If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life.” (Oscar Wilde)

Waiting.

You Can Call Me

Date: March 4, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“It’s strange but true. Fat chance and slim chance mean the same thing.”

When my unexpected life began, and in the real world, there were probably many (myself included, on occasion) that believed the reality of a wonderful life ever working out for me again was a slim chance or a fat one. However, the beauty of an unexpected life is that it does work out. With enough faith, hope, hard work, optimism, endurance and some miracles, in fact, it always does. Every time.

Another highlight of my engagement, for me, took place shortly after the driveway conversation with my youngest and the neighbor boy. One day I received the following email from #5:  ”Hey, Just wanted to let you know that last night in the car Jake asked if he could call me Dad. I told him he could call me anything he wanted–Dad, Fatty, Mike…Later he called me Mike, but at least he knows that it will be ok.”

Things were changing in our unexpected life; they were definitely looking up. Mr. Awesome was proving himself truly awesome time and again, but there were still a few unusual conversations ahead. Especially those that involved a four-year-old.

“The difficulty with this conversation is that it’s very different from most of the ones I’ve had of late. Which, as I explained, have mostly been with trees.” (Douglas Adams)


Who Are You?

Date: March 3, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“It is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us fathers and sons.” (Johann Schiller)

Returning to the singles scene following my divorce was an interesting experience, particularly when the subject of my four children arose. Each and every time a man asked me how many children I had, and especially when they found out all of them still lived at home, I witnessed a variety of reactions.

A blanch.

Disbelief.

Shock.

A swallow.

And then usually a change of subject!

I heard things like, “You’re 42 years old and you have a…THREE YEAR OLD? What were you thinking?” Certainly not that I’d be divorced and left alone to raise him and three other children just a couple of years after his birth.

Or, “That’s ok, I don’t have a problem with kids–as long as they’re provided for…BY SOMEONE ELSE.” No, ex-husbands in prison don’t make much money, and with large restitution orders hanging over their heads, probably never will. I am the source of support for my children.

There were many, many other comments and reactions. Too many to recount, actually. The few that didn’t fall apart at the mention of my four children, usually refrained from EVER mentioning them. In fact, they never brought them up. I guess they thought if they ignored the four elephants in the room, they might go away. NOT. (And I’d NEVER want them to!)

And then there were a very few, about four men, who asked me about my children, referred to my children by name, and offered kind comments occasionally.

Except #5. The first time I met him he asked me all about them. He didn’t blanch at the number of children, he simply said, “I have four kids too!” He took things a step further, and actually made an effort to get to know them: he took my children snowmobiling; he brought them gifts when he returned from an out-of-town trip; he had them over to his home for games and dessert; he took them to lunch once; and he always sat and chatted with them when he came to pick me up for our dates. He became their friend.

One afternoon shortly after our engagement, we pulled up in the driveway and my youngest and his neighbor friend came running to greet the car. When #5 rolled down his window to talk to the boys, the first thing out of either boy’s mouth was the neighbor boy’s question to #5 about his parental status. “Who are you? Are you his daddy?”

In that instant I wondered how #5 would handle that. It was the first time that conversation had confronted us. I sat back and watched to see what he’d say or do. But without missing a beat, #5 calmly replied, “I am!”

My youngest smiled, happy and content to know and to be able to show the neighbor boy he had a dad again. And the boys returned to playing. The question had been resolved. No big deal. But it was a momentous moment for me. One of the highlights of my engagement, in fact. One of the most tragic losses of my unexpected life was my children’s loss of their father. But thanks to #5, we all had everything we needed again.

And #5 became a father to a total of 8 children.

“Blessed indeed is the man who hears many gentle voices call him father!” (Lydia M. Child, Philothea: A Romance, 1836)

I guess you could say #5 is EXTREMELY blessed now.

As are we.

Today’s Crisis Is Tomorrow’s Joke, I Hope

Date: February 2, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I don’t know how to drive a car.” (Javier Bardem)

However, my daughter is learning to. She’ll be 16 in two months, so despite the fact she’s had her learner’s permit for almost a year, we’re feeling the pressure to get her as much experience behind the wheel before her birthday as we can. Easier said than done, though. Especially when I work full-time in another city.

So tonight we combined a driving lesson with a quick errand. Note to self: it would probably be wise to never attempt teenage daughter driving lessons after working all day and commuting both directions in traffic!

She drove. When I instructed her to turn right, she turned left–like she didn’t know her left from her right. (She really does, and she’s a smart girl, but I think she gets a little flustered behind the wheel.) One time when I instructed her to turn left, she hesitated so long the car behind her got in the turn lane, pulled up beside her and she nearly hit them when trying to get in the lane to turn.  After taking the LONG way to our destination, and experiencing her struggle to both use the turn signal and to change lanes, I admit it wasn’t my finest 20 minutes as a mother.

So by the time she ran a stop sign, cut off the car who actually had the right of way, forced them to slam on their brakes to avoid an accident, which apparently angered them because they tail-gated our car all the way down the street until they could whip around us, cut in front of us and slam on their brakes (to reinforce their anger at the way our driver was driving, I guess) I was completely out of patience.

I lectured her thoroughly (and loudly.)

Upon arriving home, my daughter went straight to her room, crying, committed to never getting behind the wheel of a car again. I make an impressive driving instructor, don’t you think? Or at the very least, an impressive mother. (Not.)

Ironically, tonight a friend told me that I have a very nice daughter and that I’m a good mother. Of all the days to tell me that! I had to confess how not true that is today. I can only hope that, “The crisis of today is the joke of tomorrow.” (H.G. Wells)

Or that she’s at least speaking to me by then, so we can laugh about it!

I apologized to her several times tonight, but I’m thankful “tomorrow is another day,” a new opportunity to stand up and do things better as a mother and as a driving instructor–if my daughter will consent to drive again.

“If you fell down yesterday, stand up today.” (H.G. Wells)

Just don’t run any stop signs.

What Miracle Is Wrought

Date: December 15, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Don’t rush me sonny. You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles.” (“The Princess Bride”)

Not long ago, I was reviewing my unexpected life; pondering all that has happened and the many miracles I have received since March 18, 2009. There have been many.

Although, it’s funny what you become accustomed to. For awhile, my situation was so desperate I was blessed with huge miracle after miracle. They almost became “the norm!” Then I realized it had been awhile since I’d experienced a jaw dropping miracle so I thought, “That must be a sign that I’m healing and things are getting back to normal. I guess I must not need many big miracles any more.” (And I admit there was a tiny part of me that was sad miracles, for me, had ceased. I felt like I still needed a little help!)

I should have known better.  ”Miracles happen everyday, change your perception of what a miracle is and you’ll see them all around you.” (Jon Bon Jovi)

The other day, one of my cute, single college student co-workers shared a miracle she received with me: someone purchased a plane ticket for her to fly to visit her family at Christmas. She was so touched, and so grateful, she felt like crying! I was happy for her, and full of gratitude and admiration for whoever made that possible for my friend.

It made me think about miracles I’ve received. For example, that my children and I have remained healthy and safe the past 21 months is a miracle. That we have wonderful old and new friends that bless our lives is a miracle. That I got a job in a tough economy after not working for 19 years is a miracle. That I survived two corporate down sizings, and kept my job, is a miracle. And last but not least, not only did Bachelor #5 arrive in our lives, but that he continues to hang in there with me during an engagement much longer than either of us anticipated as we prepare to marry some time in 2011 and blend two families and eight children is also a miracle!

I could go on and on.

I receive miracles every day; but I’m overwhelmed by tender mercies lately. The following have all come to me THIS month:

As mentioned earlier, my neighbor fixed my car. It was a blessing to have it repaired. And of course, it goes without saying that each time we drive it, we continue to be grateful for functioning windows and a warm driving experience!

I got a little bonus at my work Christmas party last week, which will allow me to purchase Christmas gifts for each of my children.

Two issues that have plagued me since my spouse revealed his Ponzi scheme and crimes, were finally resolved. THAT is a miracle.

We got to see a current movie in a theater (AND buy treats!), courtesy of a Denver man who saw the NBC-affiliate news story that ran on our family and he contacted us with words of encouragement–and a gift card to a movie theater so we could enjoy a movie as a family! It was the first time we’ve been able to do that since our unexpected life began and it was a thrill! In fact, I don’t think my youngest remembers ever seeing a movie in a theater. Current movies in real theaters are one of those “luxuries” that aren’t in our family budget any more. The man said that although throwing rocks is fun, so are movies, and he is right! What a great start to our holiday season.

I guess the season for miracles in my life is not over.

And I realize that it never is.

For any one.

Regardless of which end of the miracle you’re on.

“When we do the best that we can, we never know what miracle is wrought in our life, or in the life of another.” (Helen Keller)

Manner of Travel

Date: December 10, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Driving a brand new car feels like driving around in an open billfold with the dollars flapping by your ears as they fly out the window.” (Grey Livingston)

Not that I know a heck of a lot about driving a brand new car these days. However, when in one moment you discover all of your possessions (including your money, your home and your automobiles) have been seized by the government, and you’re visualizing being left alone as a single mother to raise your four children in a cardboard box on the street, you’re grateful for ANY vehicle to drive, regardless of how used it is.

At least, that’s how I felt and what I was telling myself the day the passenger window of our little, used, red car unrolled itself for no reason as we drove down the street—and unfortunately, wouldn’t roll itself up again. We tried everything we could think of to “fix” it, but to no avail. We consulted a car dealer who estimated it would cost between $200-$300 to fix. So we taped up the gaping hole with garbage bags and hockey tape (no duct tape for the Merrimans, we’re a hockey family!) and drove the car as it was while my children and I contemplated what we were going to sacrifice to be able to afford to fix the window.

It was a chilly, unforgettable experience that resulted in having to keep a close eye on Utah weather, to ensure our little car was in the garage when it rained, or snowed.

“…that’s the wonderful thing about family travel:  it provides you with experiences that will remain locked forever in the scar tissue of your mind.” (Dave Barry)

As the temperature dropped and the precipitation increased, and as I experienced the unforgettable memories that come with driving a car in the winter with no window, buried under blankets and blasting the heat in an attempt to stay somewhat comfortable as I drove around town…I had to shake my head and laugh at another unexpected adventure that was now mine! How far I’ve come from my previous life! (It was a chilly reminder of some not so subtle differences between my old life and now.)

And then, safety reasons aside, it simply got too cold. There was no other choice; we had to fix the window. And as in more times than I can count since moving into the cul-de-sac with the greatest neighbors in the history of Utah and the world, once again, a neighbor came to my rescue.

One neighbor noticed the “garbage bag window” and suggested we have her husband look at it. Her husband followed up on her offer before I could even call him. He recommended a repair place, we dropped the car off, and when my son went to pick it up, the repair shop wouldn’t let us pay for it because my neighbor had taken care of it. I called my neighbor, asked how much I owed him, and he wouldn’t let me pay him. When I tried to argue against that, he hung up on me. (Just kidding. He said the call dropped for no apparent reason.) But the bottom line was, my neighbor took care of our car problem for us. (Not for the first time, I might add.)

Scar tissue. It comes with the territory of an unexpected life. But the above is an example of the kind of “scar tissue” I’m experiencing. The kind that covers everything. And heals.

Thanks to our neighbors, we’re traveling in style (with all windows in the car) again. And we couldn’t be happier.

“Happiness is not a station you arrive at, but a manner of traveling.” (Margaret B. Runbeck)

Isn’t that the truth?

And many thanks, again, to all those who exemplify traveling in such style and who help us make happiness our manner of traveling, as well.

The Unexpected Life We Call Halloween

Date: October 31, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Charlie Brown is the one person I identify with.  C.B. is such a loser.  He wasn’t even the star of his own Halloween special.” (Chris Rock)

Sometimes the unexpected life feels like Halloween.

You’re thrust into a situation that feels strangely akin to a nightmare. It’s dark. You’re afraid. You can’t figure out how you got there. You wonder how you’ll ever overcome all of the scary things that jump out at you around every corner. And the best part? You feel like such a loser.

I wish I had all of the secrets and answers to dealing with the unexpected life. A magic formula that takes the fear away, boosts self-esteem so no one feels like the loser I did and makes success despite the unexpected obstacles guaranteed. Unfortunately, I don’t think anything like that exists. If it did, there would be no unexpected life.

But here’s one thing that helped me: despite my unexpected life, I didn’t change my goals. I had to adjust my expectations regarding my starting point, how long it would take me to achieve them and I had to acknowledge I would be reaching my goals in entirely different ways; but I didn’t abandon them.

My mom taught me that. She said unexpected things happen, but you have to keep living and striving to reach your goals. For example, you might be a college student with a “scholarship” funded by your father–when he dies unexpectedly in an airplane crash and you lose not only your parent, but your source of advice, your biggest fan and your financial backing for everything. In the unexpected life, it’s vital that you don’t quit; you can’t abandon your goal. You just have to figure out new ways to achieve it. You sell your car, you get a job, you get a second job, you take as many credit hours as you possibly can and go to classes year-round to finish faster, you don’t take a vacation, you quit shopping; you do whatever it takes to graduate with your degree. (I promise, it will serve you well when the next phase of your unexpected life hits decades later! So NEVER abandon your goal.)

By not quitting, you are on the path to eventual greatness. “Greatness is not measured by what a man or woman accomplishes, but by the opposition he or she has overcome to reach his goals.” (Dorothy Height)

When my unexpected life hit last year, quitting wasn’t an option. As much as in some moments I felt like walking off into the sunset alone and dropping off the face of the earth, I couldn’t let myself do that. I knew what was expected of me, I knew the right response, I had children who needed me, I had my children to set an example for, so I had to carry on. My goals remained the same: raise a strong and united family; help my children grow to become law abiding (o.k., so I added that to my goals–I hadn’t considered any other course was an option prior to my ex-husband breaking the law!) productive, capable, self-reliant adults; educate my children; and achieve happiness, seeking to be happy all along the way. In other words, create a “happily ever after.”

Doing all of that can be difficult. Scary is an understatement. Some days you don’t know how it will be possible, how things will fall into place the way you need them to. In fact, sometimes they don’t, and you have additional challenges to overcome. But you press forward anyway, power through the hard stuff, try to smile along the way and hopefully, eventually, walk out into the light!

It’s no secret. Some moments all you can do is pray, seek to find something to be grateful for, “go to work” and endure the rest until you overcome.

But I promise it’s worth it.

Like the end of every episode of “Scooby Doo,” when the ghosts and monsters have been quashed and Fred, Daphne, Velma, Shaggy and Scooby are rolling down the highway in The Mystery Machine and everything’s groovy again, it will be that way again for you, too. One day you’ll have employment, a roof over your head, food on the table, you’ll see your children thriving despite everything and that they’ve learned important things that will serve them well the rest of their lives, that the smiles are real again and that you’re happy. Possibly happier and more content than you’ve ever been. (And if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll even have a Bachelor #5 or an Agent M to boot!)

Who knows? In the unexpected life, EVERYTHING is possible!

“Hold on, man.  We don’t go anywhere with “scary,” “spooky,” “haunted,” or “forbidden” in the title.”  (Scooby-Doo)

Except…in the unexpected life.