Letters In One Place

Moving always gets me thinking about the people I left behind, the ones that changed me with their presence in my life. Some are obvious but others may never know the positive impact they had on my life, on the person I have become. This year, as I moved and turned 40, I have been thinking a lot about the various people I have met along the way. In the olden days, I might have gotten out my engraved stationary and sent them a letter. In today's world, in my world, I am going to be posting these letters on my blog. Saves me paper and postage, and more importantly, hopefully reminds us each of the impact we have on one another's lives because from each of these people, I have learned how to be a better person.  

Here are the letters written so far all in one place. 

To My Noble Friend
To the Missionaries...
You Show Up
You Made Me Brave
Dear Mrs. N. 
To My Fashionista Friend
To My English Speaking Church Family
Dear American Club Ladies
Letter to a Friend

To My Noble Friend

To My Noble Friend,

I am often quick to give advice. I like to problem solve. But if you don't like that idea, I can think of another. I know I don't have all the answers but I am certainly one to try to think of lots of different solutions.

Over the last few years I have had a friend facing an interesting challenge. We would often talk about how to handle this situation, we would vent to one another when a new page of the saga was turned on one of us, we would commiserate and pray and hope and dream of a future where we didn't have to deal with this any longer. I was the luckier one because distance allowed me to avoid most of the drama but my friend was tied to it with a web of relationships that intertwined and crossed over and over binding her to the challenge.

I would give her advice or make suggestions about how I would solve the problem. I am quick to cut ties that bind me to darkness and pain and challenge. But my friend, she is quick to show grace. To give unwarranted love to those around her. She is humble and quick to point to her part of the problem, humility incarnate. She is self-sacrificing in the most beautiful and Christ-like way.

Recently, I found myself in a very similar situation. My worlds here overlap. I go to church with people from school, sit in the hockey stands with people from church and school. Relationships overlap and a web is created that cannot be detangled without destroying the very thing you are trying to build. And suddenly all my advice fell flat.

You cannot problem solve people.

You can love others but you cannot make them love you. You can speak the truth but you cannot make people listen. You can give more than you will ever receive. You can humble yourself. You can set boundaries for yourself but you cannot force others to change.

I had never really understood the complexity of my friend's situation. But I do now.

And now I know deeply how noble my friend is.

Because I don't know if I have the patience, the humility, the love that my friend has always shown, even when she never wanted to. Because for my friend, love and grace, emulating Christ in this world, are more important than being right.

I like being right. I like solving problems.

Thanks my noble friend for showing me the way. I don't think I can walk that road as beautifully as you do but I am glad we get to walk together.

Love,

Me.

I Miss My Mom

I miss my mom.

I don't miss the drama. I don't miss the competition. I don't miss the anxiety. I don't miss the changing stories that seem aimed to pierce me.

 I am not even sure I miss my mom. She is very much alive just in case that was confusing.

But I do miss having a mom.

I miss having a soft place to land. I miss having a cheerleader who is in my corner. I miss having someone to go Christmas shopping and out to lunch together. I miss having someone to call if all hell breaks loose, who will swoop in and help on a moments notice. I miss having someone to talk to who I know will give me wise advice but still love me when I go another way. I realize I may be missing something that is not real but only imagined after reading too many books and seeing too many holiday movies. But I still miss it.

I know that I am not alone. I know mothers and daughters often have challenging relationships.

But some of us have harmful ones. And there is a difference.

I do not feel safe with my mom. I do not feel that she loves me, just the idea of her daughter. I do not feel that she has my best in mind.

I don't like to air dirty laundry. And I hate speak badly about someone else. I wish I could write all this without mentioning her. But there is no way to couch this. To write vaguely enough because our moms are core to our being. Not that they have to be biological or even female, but we all need that person, the one person that has our back no matter what. And when you don't have that person, the loss is always there, sometimes a dull ache, sometimes a sharp pain, sometimes just a weakness you feel when you turn the wrong way.

I wouldn't write this at all except I know I am not alone.

And even if I am, I am sad today. I am missing having a mom today.


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After I first posted this, ohhh the guilt set in. I should write all the good things about my mom too... except, I don't have a lot of those memories. Not that she wasn't a good mom but that my memories are tainted by all the rest of it. And the guilt remains. But this is honest and true for me today.

You can read more of our story and my disclaimer here (or click on the Blog Series button at the top of the page) and reading the posts listed under My Story.

Christmas Memories - No Rope

This year my husband, I think knowing that the holidays are always a bit tough for me the first year we move, agreed to going to a UCut tree farm. Finally. We took the kids a few weekends ago and it brought back so many memories of walking through the hundreds of trees with my brothers trying to find the perfect tree. Which reminded me of one of my favorite tree buying stories. I have posted this story the last few years because each time it brings me such joy. I think it worries my husband.

Without further ado...


*****
Did I ever tell you about the time we forgot to bring rope to the Christmas tree farm?

It is a favorite family story, at least for my family. I think it causes my husband anxiety.

The story begins with a van load of kids and two parents driving about a mile from our house to a nearby Christmas tree farm. Living in Oregon you end up passing multiple tree farms on a quick trip to Costco. It seems that any farm land left has trees growing on it. Most of these trees are actually cut down at the end of November and sent south, where Californians pay a crazy amount for a real live noble fir. I will be one of those crazy Californians this year.

Anyway, the family, including the six teenage foster kids that lived with us at the time were all walking through the muddy tree farm looking for the perfect tree. (There seems to be a theme to my Christmas tree stories.)

We looked at trees that looked perfect on one side but had a huge hole in the back. It always reminded me of a big civil war era hoop skirt tucked into a girl's pantaloons in the back.

We looked at trees that were too tall or too short. Someone started grumbling, most likely my dad. Someone started whining, probably me but since this is my blog I'll blame my little brother.

Finally the good enough tree was found and cut down. Again, there were people kneeling down on coats and a few choice phrases uttered as the handsaw got caught in the tree trunk. The wet needles flickering drops of water on everyone nearby as it is carried back to the car.

We, and by we I mean the grown ups and my big brother, finally get the tree on top of the van ready to be tied down.

But there is no rope.

And here is where my memory gets foggy because I would assume that the tree farm had string. The fancy tree farm we took our kids to when we lived in Oregon had string. They also let you preselect your tree in September before the California trees were harvested. And then they cut the tree down for you on the day you preselected for pick up. Maybe our childhood tree farm was not that fancy.

So we had the tree on top of the van but nothing to tie it down. And here is where my family becomes the Griswolds because the solution they found was to have my big brother lie on top of the tree, on top of van, holding on to the luggage rack, while my dad drove the van full of the rest of the family home.

Seriously. We drove a mile or so with a Christmas tree and my brother on top of the van.

We love this story. It is the essence of my family. Pragmatic and determined. Safety conscious...not so much.

I think the image of one of our boys on top of the van may be why my husband does not like that story.

Because truthfully, left  in the same situation, I might try it. Hockey Boy is pretty strong.

Update - (I posted this link on my Facebook page where my brother read it. He confirms the story except for me forgetting to mention the rain and cold. Longest mile of his life he wrote.)

*****
Can you please help settle a debate between the kids who lived this story and the spouses who are slightly (or more) horrified by this story. Was this a horrible thing for my parents to do? Or a funny Griswold type moment?