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Proma Drama

Date: April 19, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I get letters from all over, all sorts. It’s really cool. I get a lot from inmates, which is kind of scary. But the best was the guy who wanted to send me a plane ticket to fly me to his prom.” (Laura Prepon)

Prom (at our house) is 10 days away and the drama continues. In fact, it has resulted in modifications to the English language: Proma Drama (say it like it rhymes with drama). Although my husband coined the term, if it were in any dictionary you could find it defined as, “anything having to do with the events leading up to the high school ritual known as Prom.” Or something like that.

Date to prom? Check.

As reported earlier, my daughter was asked to prom. A boy she works with and goes to school with asked her. (The invitation itself caused drama, as I’ve mentioned earlier, because the boy asked my daughter and another girl at the school walked around school for days crying in the halls and all of her classes and told everyone it was because the boy she wanted to go to prom with asked my daughter!)

We live in Utah, where “creative dating” is practiced by teens, so the boy didn’t just ask my daughter in person or text or call with his invitation, he did it in a creative way. Late one night our doorbell rang, I opened the door to find no one there, looked down and there sat three goldfish swimming in a container with the message: “If wishes were fishes and I had three, I’d use them to ask, ‘Will you go to prom with me?’” (Cute, huh? They even came with fish food!)

Due to my daughter’s busy school, work and spring track schedule she didn’t have time to answer for a few days. In the meantime, everyone enjoyed the fish. And fed them. Until sadly, I don’t believe any were actually alive by the time the reply was delivered. Oops!

Prom dress? Check.

Believe it or not, we found it online—a far different prom dress shopping experience than mine were in the 1980s. I never actually did find one that was “perfect,” which resulted in my mom designing and sewing me the perfect dress for prom my junior year (she was a fabulous seamstress, as good as any professional anywhere)—and then flying to another state the following year in quest of the perfect prom dress so she wouldn’t have to EVER sew another one!

Referencing prom throughout the days and weeks leading up to it? Check.

For example, my daughter’s birthday came a few weeks after the “fishy” prom invitation. Her birthday incorporated a bit of Proma Drama when her best friend sent her a beautiful bouquet of roses with two wishes: “Happy Birthday! I hope these flowers live longer than the fish did!” (For the record, the flowers are still thriving and looking beautiful.)

And then the moment came when my daughter’s date had to be told what color her dress is so their attire could be coordinated.

Stay tuned.

Oh. And speaking of dresses: “Some women hold up dresses that are so ugly and they always say the same thing: ‘This looks much better on.’ On what? On fire?” (Rita Rudner)

The Way The World Laughs

Date: April 18, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“The world laughs in flowers.” (E.E. Cummings)

Despite my experiences of 2009 and my entry into an unexpected life (when many voices of the world weren’t quite so jolly and the tragic situation many of us found ourselves in as a result of the crimes committed by my former husband was anything but humorous) I love that thought. I love the thought of sharing laughter (aka. happiness and joy) with others through flowers—must be why I always loved May Day and secretly leaving fragrant bouquets on neighbors’ doorsteps. I also love the visual imagery of the earth, itself, blooming with flowers (aka. joy and “laughter.”) What a beautiful time of year it is as the world laughingly leaves winter behind and blossoms into spring.

Last week my husband got us all out into the yard to do some general spring clean up and weeding. I noticed it was a lot easier to see what I was doing in the sunlight this year compared to last year’s weeding and garden planting in the dark of night—but I didn’t expect it to be as memorable.

And then, when we were almost finished, my 12-year-old son walked up with a bouquet of dandelions clutched tightly in his growing hands and gallantly presented them to me with a smile. I thanked him, ran into the house, put the “flowers” in a vase of water in the kitchen windowsill and returned to my work in the yard—pulling growing things, “weeds,” that looked suspiciously similar to the bouquet on the kitchen windowsill.

“A weed is but an unloved flower.” (Ella Wheeler Wilcox)

It’s all in your perspective.

I believe it’s all about how you choose to look at it, whether it’s weeds, the world or an unexpected life. There is beauty in “weeds” just as there can be great beauty in an unexpected life. It’s up to you to see it that way. It’s up to you to take what you’re handed, look for the good and make the most of what you’ve been given; to find joy and to live after the manner of happiness despite, or perhaps because of, the unexpected life.

Even On July 13

Date: July 13, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“If you wish to forget anything on the spot, make a note that this thing is to be remembered.” (Edgar Allan Poe)

Two years ago today, July 13, 2009, I thought my world had ended.

As I drove from Colorado to begin a new life in Utah (crying as discreetly as possible so my children wouldn’t realize tears were uncontrollably rolling down my cheeks), I could not comprehend ever healing or feeling whole again. I anticipated that date, July 13, would be burned in my memory forever and would always haunt me, as a day of personal infamy, never to be forgotten.

Cut to 2011.

A few days ago I realized (only because my middle child reminded me) that July 13 was approaching. I marveled at the healing that has taken place in just two years. I can’t believe all that has transpired in my life and in the lives of my children since 2009. We’re living a completely different, yet still unexpected, life. And honestly, this isn’t a painful date any more.

But I decided I needed to at least attempt to give it the respect I had once thought it deserved, to remember it and to mark the occasion by doing SOMETHING, so I made a plan to dispose of the dead hanging basket of flowers previously mentioned today—July 13.

This morning I got up, went to work, had a lunch meeting, worked all day, came home, did some work from home, enjoyed my children, made dinner, ate dinner with my family, sent #5 off to rehearsal for Sundance Resort’s summer theater production of “The Sound of Music,” and on my way back into the house happened to notice the basket of dead flowers hanging on the front porch. It brought me to a screeching halt. July 13!

Today was once THE day! I was supposed to have remembered it, wasn’t I? I had a plan to carry out! And here it was, almost 6 p.m., before I even remembered today. Just two years from the day I thought my world had ended, and already, I have completely forgotten July 13!

But never let it be said I don’t follow through with my plans. I asked my oldest son to throw the basket in the outside trashcan, he grabbed it and went to toss it out, and I turned around and went back into the house without a second glance or another thought.

How did it happen? How is it possible to have suffered such tremendous loss, to have endured such devastation and grief, only to forget such a landmark date just two years later?

I think it’s one bonus of not just living the unexpected life, but choosing to embrace your unexpected life.

Accept what you’ve been dealt. Take stock of what you’re left with. Use it to rebuild. Count your blessings. Laugh. Choose to find happiness and joy in your new realm. And guess what? You will. Each and every time. If it happened to me, it can happen to you. I know it. And then at some point, you realize the pain is gone. If you hang on long enough, choose to let go of it and focus on your new blessings, at some point, the pain is gone.

“My focus is to forget the pain of life. Forget the pain, mock the pain, reduce it. And laugh.” (Jim Carrey)

Even on July 13.

Flowers: A Sign of Healing

Date: June 18, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I hate flowers – I paint them because they’re cheaper than models and they don’t move.” (Georgia O’Keefe)

Unlike Georgia, I love flowers. I love to smell them. I love to see them. I love to plant them. A big part of my life has always been planting flowers every year–as a girl, I loved helping my mom plant flowers each spring; and I’ll never forget my first spring as a married woman, living in my own home, planting my first flowers.

However, when I entered my unexpected life two years ago, I gave up a few things (and I’m not talking about the “things” seized by the federal government.) For example, I didn’t play the piano for awhile. And then when I reached a point where I did play the piano again, I realized some healing had taken place.

It wasn’t always a conscious decision. Sometimes, as I healed and began doing something I hadn’t done in awhile again, I realized what had happened.

I had one of those unexpected epiphanies the other day.

It came as a result of a trip to a nursery. We, #5 and I, bought what we needed to plant a small garden, along with some flowers to plant in the yard. I spent part of an afternoon planting all of the flowers, thoroughly enjoying myself. And when I was done, I admired what I had created. I felt so energized and that feeling lasted all day.  I even had the thought, “Wow, I feel like my ‘old self’ again.” And then it hit me.

For the first time in my unexpected life, I planted flowers.  For the first time, since spring 2008, I planted flowers! I marveled at the healing. I mean, I didn’t plant flowers because money was so short but also because I had no energy or inclination to–I had too many other things to wade through, to take care of, to worry about and flowers were the least of my problems. Like so many other things from my former life, I guess I thought that flower planting part of my life was over. I didn’t have jewels anymore, my children were my jewels. I didn’t grow flowers anymore, I was raising children.

But somehow, miraculously (to me), the new life with which I have been blessed is full, complete and it even includes flowers. I am healed. I realize, again, that Andrea Merriman is back! Only it’s Andrea Ramsey now. And she’s planting flowers!

“Flowers really do intoxicate me.” (Vita Sackville-West)

Loss

Date: May 18, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“And yet, I suppose you mourn the loss or the death of what you thought your life was, even if you find your life is better after. You mourn the future that you thought you’d planned.”  (Lynn Redgrave)

It has been two years since my unexpected life began. I haven’t been haunted by the events that led to it for quite some time and then out of the blue, unexpectedly, I dreamed of a moment connected to it (not one of my favorite moments, by the way) and I could not shake the memory of it when I awoke.

The experience I dreamed of occurred a few weeks after certain events ended my life as I knew it. One ramification of the unexpected situation was that I was released from serving as president of the women’s organization of my church congregation. Another ramification of it was that due to the public nature of my former husband’s crimes and positions of leadership he had held within our church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, local church leadership determined it was necessary to publicly address some of it to congregations our family had been closely associated with. My church leaders were very kind about it all; they told me it was necessary and explained why; they told me the day they were going to do it so I could be prepared (and probably, if I were smarter and raised by different parents, so that I could be absent from those meetings that day.) But unfortunately, I had been taught differently than that–taught to face what needs to be faced and that trials and tragedy don’t change what is right or what is expected of us.

It was a poignant lesson I learned in 1986 when my dad unexpectedly died in a plane crash. I was a teenager and dreaded going to church that Sunday after he died. He had been a leader in our congregation and I didn’t want to face people (even people I loved or people who loved me and my family) and I had a sneaking suspicion my mom was planning that our family would attend church. Late Saturday night I asked, “We don’t have to go to church tomorrow, do we?”

My mom was firm in her resolve and her answer. “Of course we do! Just because your dad isn’t here doesn’t mean the rest of us can stop living and it certainly doesn’t change what is right. We believe in going to church on Sunday, that is what we have always done and that is what we will continue to do.” She was a strong woman in a gentle kind of way (I don’t want to make her sound harsh–she was anything but that.) She took our family to church despite the loss we’d experienced just two days previously (although she relented a little bit and let us arrive 5 minutes late so we wouldn’t have to talk to anyone before the meeting.)

Interestingly, when our unexpected life began, one of my children asked me a question very similar to the one I’d asked my own mother 23 years before, “Mom, we don’t have to go to church this Sunday, do we?” and I gave an answer very similar to the one my mom had given me and we went to church and continued to attend each Sunday, regardless of some uncomfortable moments.

Like the Sunday I dreamed of recently. The Sunday I had to sit and endure public comments about my personal situation that was so public– comment about my former spouse’s crimes and the situation he created as a result. It was also the day the new presidency of the women’s organization of our congregation publicly recognized me, gave me a bouquet of flowers and thanked me for my service; and then after that, the leader of our cluster of congregations (known as a stake president) stood and addressed the issues that needed to be publicly discussed. I don’t remember a lot about that day, I mostly remember sitting in the back of the room, tears of grief, shame, humiliation, sorrow (and a host of other feelings and emotions) streaming down my cheeks as I stared at the beautiful flowers in my lap and endured what was being said to the women around me. I do remember a woman sitting by me on the back row, patting my arm or giving my shoulder a squeeze, through the whole thing. I can’t remember who she was, but how much I appreciated her kindness to me at that time! She helped me feel slightly less alone and helped me get through a very difficult moment.

That was a tough experience but I got through it and it’s now a part of my past. I honestly haven’t let myself think too much about it, or look back on it, until that recent morning when I woke up, tears streaming down my face. And #5 was asleep next to me in bed!

I was shocked. It has been two years! I am living a new life, remarried to a wonderful man, and I wake up crying over something that happened two years ago? I felt a little bit crazy. I didn’t want #5 to see, or know, he was married to such a wacky wife that dreamed about the past and woke up crying! I confess, I even felt a little bit guilty as I am the recipient of many miracles and kindness and have much to be thankful for; I have the great blessing to be remarried and am truly happy again–I can’t (or shouldn’t) be crying about the past (even if it was unintentional–something I woke up doing in a dream!)

I quickly got up to hide my insanity, pulled myself together and went on about my day. Except that I couldn’t quite shake the feelings that dream left me with. I felt slightly emotionally “off.” And that was just the start of the day.

“Going back to Ireland involves at least six to seven emotional breakdowns for me per day.” (Anjelica Huston)

Stay tuned. More emotional breakdowns to come.

Holiday

Date: February 14, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Valentine’s Day is not a holiday. Rosh Hashanah, that’s a holiday. Memorial Day, yes a holiday…You know who invented Valentine’s Day? Hershey’s and Hallmark.” (Peter Gallagher, The O.C.)

My oldest walked in to the kitchen, saw I was writing a blog post and asked what I was writing about. I replied, “I think, Valentine’s Day.” To which he responded, “YUCK. I can’t think of a more pointless ‘holiday’ than that!” and he left the room. I had to wonder, how did such a romantic mother raise such a realistic teenage son? LOL. Although I don’t know if #5 would think the mother is so romantic. Case in point: a conversation we had just last week.

We were driving down the road when he asked, “So, are the kids set for Monday night?”

I panicked, trying to recall what was scheduled for Monday night. My mind raced as I tried to remember what I had planned, and how I could have neglected to take care of a tiny but extremely important detail called childcare. I must have given #5 the biggest, blank, deer-caught-in-headlights stare prior to verbalizing a very intelligent, “Huh?”

All he could do was shake his head and offer two words, “Valentine’s Day!” Followed by, “I can’t believe you forgot! How unromantic you are! What would Edward and Bella say?”

He was right. How very unromantic of the woman bent on a happy ending to her fairy tale, who endured the revelation of crime, a Ponzi scheme, divorce, publicity, loss, financial devastation, an unexpected return to the workforce, a return to the single life, dating in her 40s, THE BACHELORS  and everything else, who eventually found her very own Mr. Awesome, and then forgot… Valentine’s Day!

I don’t know what Edward and Bella would think, but here’s what I thought: I thought back to last Valentine’s Day. 2010. My first as a divorcee/single mother. I was pretty overwhelmed by my unexpected life back then, so I don’t remember focusing on it much. I think I was just hoping to get through it, sort of forget it, and look forward to brighter days. But instead, that was the day I arrived home from work to find a beautiful flower arrangement waiting for me on my porch–from #5. He took me to dinner and a play that night. That was also the date I was battling bronchitis and a sinus infection (I know, romantic!), the night #5 warned me that when my antibiotics kicked in, he was taking things to a new level.

How much has transpired since last Valentine’s Day, including this realization: I think I forgot to focus on February 14, Valentine’s Day, 2011, because every day with #5 feels a lot like Valentine’s Day to me. That is something I never expected when I walked through the doors at The Old Spaghetti Factory and saw #5 for the first time; when I sat across the table from him on our first date in 2009.

“How can you tell if two adults eating dinner at a restaurant are in love?

  • Just see if the man picks up the check. That’s how you can tell if he’s in love. (John, age 9)
  • Lovers will just be staring at each other and their food will get cold. Other people care more about the food. (Brad, age 8)
  • It’s love if they order one of those desserts that are on fire. They like to order those because it’s just like how their hearts are on fire.” (Christine, age 9)

Keep It Real

Date: August 28, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Look at us, said the violets blooming at her feet, all last winter we slept in the seeming death but at the right time God awakened us, and here we are to comfort you.” (Edward Payson Rod)

When Bachelor #5 picked me up for our date that night I thanked him for the beautiful flowers. I loved them. My daughter loved them too, she loved them so much that she removed her favorites from the big arrangement and created her own smaller version that she put in her room!

As I was still on antibiotics and cough medicine, it was quite a romantic night. Every time I stepped into the cold air of a February winter night in Utah, my cough would hit. Bachelor #5 was very kind about it, although he carefully kept his distance! But at the end of the night, when he took me home, he gave me a warning.

He told me he was just waiting for my antibiotics to kick in, and when they did, he was taking things to a new level.

I did not expect that.

I was used to the way things were, I was comfortable with the way things were and I was also a little bit worried. I didn’t know how I felt about changing anything. I was healing. My children were doing very well. And part of me felt like it was too soon for any more changes (my divorce had been final just seven months!) I can’t remember how I responded, or if I did my usual ignoring of what I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear. Then I went into my house and made it as far as the kitchen sink before I…threw up.

Literally. That conversation really affected me and I wasn’t sure why.

“…keep me completely grounded, sane and throw up on my shoes…just so I know to keep it real.” (Reese Witherspoon)

Hot Date

Date: August 27, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I don’t understand why Cupid was chosen to represent Valentine’s Day. When I think about romance, the last thing on my mind is a short, chubby toddler coming at me with a weapon.” (Author Unknown)

Valentine’s Day weekend. I was back at work, but still on antibiotics and cough medicine. Before I left work that Friday before the holiday, a co-worker asked, “So, do you have a hot date for this weekend?”

I said, “No.”

My co-worker looked shocked. “What do you mean you don’t have a date?”

I replied, “I didn’t say I didn’t have a date. I have a date with Bachelor #5.”

He raised his eyebrows at me and in his best Psychology degree voice said, “What is up with that, by the way? You’ve been dating him a long time.”

I told him nothing was up. Bachelor #5 was just a nice, older man who didn’t “like” me, but dated me; so it wasn’t a “hot” date.

My co-worker (a man) disagreed. “Andrea, he’s a man and men don’t do that! They don’t date women they don’t like and they don’t date women they don’t like for months! Everything this man does for you demonstrates he likes you, actually more than likes you, in my opinion.”

I challenged him on that. I presented my case very well. I listed all of the reasons and ways I knew Bachelor #5 wasn’t interested in me. I drove home, older and wiser than my co-worker. I knew better than he did how the men I dated thought and felt. I pulled up to my house and stopped. In surprise.

Sitting on my porch was a beautiful flower arrangement. (And a box of chocolates.) For me. From Bachelor #5.

Just when I thought I had it all figured out.

Isn’t life like that? Especially the unexpected one.

“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” (Soren Kierkegaard)

Of Corpses, Fish and Flowers

Date: July 20, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“That corpse you planted last year in your garden, Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?” (T.S. Eliot)

I love “old-fashioned” flowers, like hollyhocks and peonies, but peonies are my favorite. Someone once told me peonies can live to be up to 90 years old. I don’t know if that is true, but it has made me love them even more.
I can’t imagine what they’ve seen and what they’ve survived to live that long.

Kind of like each of us as we live our unexpected lives.

My Colorado yard had LOTS of hollyhocks and peonies.

When I moved to Utah to begin a new chapter in my unexpected life, I left before my belongings. My former spouse, unemployed and waiting to be formally charged for the Ponzi scheme he perpetrated and the crimes he committed, moved my things to Utah for me after I was already working. Knowing how much I loved my peonies and that I had no money with which to buy new plants in Utah, the man I had divorced uprooted 2-3 peony plants from my Colorado yard and hauled them to Utah in buckets, hoping they could be transplanted in my new yard upon their arrival.

In the midst of working full time, tending my children in the evening, and trying to unpack and move in to our Utah home, one of the peony plants from Colorado died before I could plant them. I looked at it, dead, withered and lifeless in an orange Home Depot bucket, and realized I had a lot more in common with peonies than I’d thought. I felt like that plant looked and wondered if I was headed for the same fate. It felt like pieces of my heart were already there. But seeing the dead plant motivated me to plant the two remaining peony plants.

They looked dead, but I figured if that were the case, I couldn’t damage them further. I planted them in the middle of the July 2009 heat and went on living my life, not sure if they were alive enough to take root or if they’d survive the winter snow. I should have known better, though. I probably should have been more worried about whether or not they could survive my children!

Sometime during the winter, my four year old came to me one day, proudly holding an entire peony plant that he had uprooted. “Look Mom! Look what I found trying to grow in our yard! Look how strong I am! I ripped this whole bush out of the ground all by myself!”

My eyes were huge as I looked at the accomplishment dangling from his little hands–my peony plant, roots and all.

The loss of a plant, considering all I had lost, seemed like such a little thing. And it sounds petty, but in a year of disappointments I couldn’t help but add the peony plant to the list. But at the same time I acknowledged there were a lot bigger losses and issues in life, and in my world, than the loss of one pink peony plant. I had experienced too many to count in 2009 and as usual, knew I could choose to laugh or cry about things, so I shook my head at the absurdity of uprooting a plant from its home, hauling it several hundred miles in a bucket in the summer heat, transplanting it when it was mostly dead and with winter coming…and a small child finally doing it in.

I laughed.

It wasn’t THAT big a loss, but it’s still true: “Through humor, you can soften some of the worst blows that life delivers. And once you find laughter, no matter how painful your situation might be, you can survive it.” (Bill Cosby)

It reminded me of our attempt at having a fish for a pet several years earlier. The fish was new to our family when we left on a vacation to Africa for one month. And wouldn’t you know it, I forgot to arrange for anyone to feed it while we were gone! I realized my mistake partway through the trip and prepared myself for a dead fish when we returned home. To my shock, the fish was alive and swimming in its bowl when we returned to Colorado! I fed it, changed its water, and secretly admired the little fish’s survival instinct. The next evening however, as I did the dinner dishes, I realized the fish was missing. Apparently, our cleaning lady had come, hadn’t realized anything was swimming in the fish bowl, dumped the contents down the drain and washed the bowl!

In the case of the peony plant, all I could do was compliment my son on his brute strength, give his “huge” arm muscles a squeeze of admiration, and help him heft the remnants of my peony plant into the big garbage can outside. Another peony dead. Sometimes the best laid plans die or don’t work out due to circumstances beyond our control.

One peony plant was left, but who knew if it was even alive, or if it could survive the rest of the winter?

I was walking in my yard recently and saw it. The peony plant was still in the ground, thankfully. It was finally green. And to my surprise, there were blossoms getting ready to bloom! Who ever would have thought? And after all of this time, one year since it was first uprooted, has passed?

“Where flowers bloom so does hope.” (Lady Bird Johnson)

It looks like I’m going to have peonies after all. With my hope. In my unexpected life.

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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