“At one point I took on a new job, and I just didn’t have time to do anything but work.” (Sharon Olds)
Yes, that’s what happened to me, too. But I’ve been at my NEW JOB for 6 weeks now, I’ve settled in and…I’m back.
Change! In the form of…a new job! At Brigham Young University!
It’s really true: “The harder I work, the luckier I get.” (Samuel Goldwyn)
Go…cougars!
“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” (John Lennon)
Remarrying mid-life is an interesting experience in so many ways and on so many levels, not the least of which is constantly feeling like I’m trying to catch up, or make up, a few decades—getting to know my husband’s family, his history and everything else. That, combined with raising children, working full time, household duties, hobbies and life in general, keeps us pretty busy!
Recently, as part of the getting to know one another’s history, I found myself at a little cemetery in Snowflake, Arizona, seeing grave sites of Ramsey family members (including my father-in-law) I’ve heard many stories about but have never met. While there, I was particularly struck by the dates engraved on the stone monuments to row after row of lives lived.
Reminded, again, of the importance of making the most of the life you’ve been blessed with—whether you chose it or not. And that while to every life there is a beginning date and at some point there will be an end, what truly matters is all of the time in between: what you choose to do with it, what you make of it, the positive impact in the world (even if it’s only in your little corner of the world) you have, the memories, the friendships and the happiness and joy you cultivate throughout it all.
Standing there in the green of a quiet and peaceful resting place I thought about the hopes, dreams and aspirations we’re all working toward; and how we each have our share of those that don’t work out for one reason or another: death, divorce, sickness, war, Ponzi schemes, accidents, betrayals, employment disappointments, natural disasters, way too many “man made disasters” and everything else no one plans to experience or wants to experience…but it comes to each of us any way.
Life “happens.” It’s what you do with it that counts.
Make the most of your moments.
Revise your plans, if necessary, due to the things that develop in your personal story.
And then choose to live happily, ever after, in YOUR unexpected life.
“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)
“If you can sell green toothpaste in this country, you can sell opera.” (Sarah Caldwell)
You have to love marriage. It teaches you things, and shows you things about yourself, that you never ever knew. But here’s the difference between first marriage and remarriage (or maybe it’s the difference between youth and experience): you learn not to sweat the small stuff.
For example, in addressing the reality of marriage let us not neglect the infamous tube of toothpaste episode. We can’t! I mean, doesn’t EVERY marriage have one?
Lest anyone has received the mistaken impression that #5 is walking male perfection (although he is very close), know that while brushing his teeth one day, he looked at me, held the tube of toothpaste we shared, and made a comment not just about which part of the tube had been squeezed…but about the tightness (or lack thereof) of the cap.
“Huh?” I asked. I had no idea what he was talking about. I confess, it has been years (probably 22 of them) since I’ve given any thought to squeezing a tube of toothpaste and where–and I don’t think I had EVER given any thought to the tightness of the cap on the toothpaste tube!
In first marriages, said incident has caused many a “first fight.” However, in remarriage, it is more like this:
The offending party (me) realized something about herself she had never known before; determined to pay more attention to the little details of toothpaste tube squeezing; and resolved, then and there, to work to always put the toothpaste tube cap on completely. A little thing on her part that would make such a difference to #5. No offense taken, just rational analysis and a determination to improve. No big deal.
The offended party (#5) knows there are easy solutions to the little irritations of life and relationships, ways to avoid potential problems (especially if you tackle them before they actually become problems) and he was willing to take action then and there. “Or should I just buy my own tube of toothpaste?” he asked. No big deal.
I warned him in advance that I might forget my new resolution and asked for his patience with me as I changed. He told me no problem, when I forgot to put the cap on or didn’t properly attach it, he would attach it VERY tightly when he put it on for me. And that was the end of that.
Both of us know there are a lot bigger issues to worry about in marriage and life than toothpaste tubes and caps; you have to pick your battles, and most aren’t worth the hassle or the fight. (Just “little” things like nurturing love, companionship, friendship, unity, kindness, respect, working together, cooperating, compromising, health, employment, raising children, blending families, serving others, making a difference in the world for the better and a host of other things.) Who really cares about toothpaste?
We also know this: ”You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube.” (H.R. Haldeman) There’s no sense crying over spilled milk. “The course of true love never did run smooth.” (Williams Shakespeare) And, “Second marriage is the triumph of hope over experience.”
“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) |
