Being a father

Has it really been 4 years since dad passed away? It's hard to believe that so much time has gone by. Sure, the grieving and missing him gets easier with time, but when I look back, it just doesn't seem like it has been 4 years. Then I think about it, and I have a moment where I really miss dad. So, on the anniversary of his going home to spend eternity singing praises to Jesus, I'm writing about him.

You know, all four of us kids would agree that dad was a great dad. But we weren't the only ones who thought this. Throughout his life and ministries, he made an impact on many lives--young and old. His lasting impact was that of a Godly man and a wonderful father figure to many.

It's something I learned from him: how to be a father. You see, the boys and I moved in with my folks almost 15 years ago. I will always be grateful for the help I received from both of my parents in raising my boys, but the role my dad played in my boys' lives will always be cherished. He (along with my brother Joel) was the first man to teach my boys that they need to respect me because not only was I their mom, but I was his daughter and deserved honor and respect.

Then I had the humbling experience of having my dad teach me that I had to be their father. At one point dad and I argued about how to handle a discipline issue with Nathaniel. Dad pretty much got in my face and told me if I didn't get tough and stand up to Nathaniel, that he would. I didn't want to be tougher than nails and fight with my son. I wanted to just make it better, but I also didn't want my dad showing me up--dad's threat really pissed me off. I was gonna show him and be tough. I realized that there were times I would have to set the rules and stand firm, on my own, in the dual role of mother and father--I couldn't let anyone take that from me, not even my dad. There were many times that I took my dad's cue in dealing with my boys, and ask my dad to back me up. It was worth it.

Now, don't get me wrong. I know how blessed I was to have my dad around. I had support in a way that most single parents don't have, and those single parents don't have someone to fall back on in helping them play that dual role. I also know that both moms and dads can be tough, but it helps if someone's got your back. My heart aches for those parents who are doing it alone. And I know how it feels to do the parenting thing alone even when the other parent is there.

But thanks to my dad, I learned how to be a father. Thanks to the role he played in my sons' lives, and even my daughter's, their lives will be forever impacted. So will mine.

You gotta take what you can get!

A friend of mine said this to me in a conversation about men. It has been a point of contention between us for a long time.

Take what you can get, or settle for something--anything--because it is better than nothing, and happiness just is not a factor.  And be happy with it, even if it  means less than true happiness.

Believe me, I understand this concept completely. I am an adult and, thanks to the life experiences we all have, I know that feeling of just accepting what I can get and trying to be happy with it.

But don't I deserve to be truly happy? Don't we all? Some of us, rather, most of us don't believe we deserve to be happy. And you know what? We are absolutely correct--we don't deserve to be truly happy.

Think about it--we humans are horrible! We value power, greed and self-fulfillment. We hurt each other, pervert each other, and are willing to kill each other to promote our own agendas.

Yes, I know I am over-generalizing here. I know that there are inherent good people out there and I consider myself a good person: I love Jesus and pray and want to do the right thing. However, I am human and I have sinned, and I have harbored ill-will in my heart. There is no way that I deserve to be happy.

Here's the thing though: I still want it. I don't want to take what I can get.

And guess what: My heavenly father--I think He wants me to be happy. How do I know? Oh, I'm sure there's a bible verse--or 2 or 3--that shows this, but think about it from a parental stand point: I raised 3 kids and there were times when I was so frustrated as a parent that I didn't even feel that my children deserved to be on this planet! But I love my kids, I cherish them, and as much as we went through, I want them to be happy with their lives. I want them to pursue their dreams and be happy in whatever lives they choose to have. And my kids--they want me to be happy too.

As much as I don't deserve to be happy, I think God, my heavenly Father, loves me so much that He wants me to be happy. Happy in serving Him, happy in my career choices and pursuing my dreams, and happy in my relationships.

I don't have to take what I can get. I have experienced something wonderful, something that made me happy, something that made me realize my own worth. Because of that, if I just settle, or take what I can get, then I get in God's way of His plan for my life.

And I have been praying about that a lot lately.

Gradschool

I am about to finish a class on Content Area Instruction and Assessment and part of my last assignment is to post an update on my blog.

Geez, has it been that long since I wrote on here? Last year? Well, the only excuse I have is that I have found these past few months of my pursuits of a master's in education and a teaching credential via online education where I take 1 class every 4 weeks absolutely exhausting (notice the long run-on sentence?).

I'm burnt out. Even after taking a 5-week break and actually taking a vacation (which was wonderful) I'm still having a difficult time staying focused. But the reality is I really need to stick with it and finish. In fact, I need to finish well. And I'm not too far from the end.

What have I learned in the current class I'm taking right now? That I still have so much to learn.

I took a pretty hard hit in the second week of this class when I got the grades back for my assignments (well, not that hard, but anything lower than an A is very difficult for me to take). But I had to agree with the feedback I received from my prof. I have no formal teaching experience (aside from teaching preschool 100 years ago and being a bible study teacher) and the lessons I created were, well...unrealistic. Some subjects I had to expect more from students, other subjects I needed to spend more time on and well...there are things I just won't know until I get in the classroom.

I have learned to listen to my profs and heed their advice. So, in the assignments in week 3, I followed the prof's advice and changed gears in my lesson presentations. I still have a lot to learn, but this time, I focused on a few things, rather than cramming tons of stuff in one lesson, and focused on giving students a little more credit as far as what they should know by the time they do the type of lesson I created.

I have learned that there is hope at the end of the Grad School tunnel. Although my prof gave very good feedback on my assignments, it was a little kick in my pants to read it. But he also gave encouraging comments. I have to admit, I am a little concerned about how it will be when I actually get my own class--a little more overwhelming than just visiting someone else's class once in awhile. However, after some life experiences I have had recently--standing up in front of people and just having presence and taking command of the room--I have hope that I have potential.

As long as I am willing to learn.

The Gift of Friends

This past year has been an adventure for my family. It's been good, but tough. The pinnacle of the year was last August. My mom sold our family home and she bought a new home closer to my sister. The move was tough on my entire family, and although we are very close, this change took a toll on us, but the blessing is that God heals, and family is...well...still family. And we've been able to share other blessings that remind us of how important family is.

As this year comes to a close, it is a different kind of family that I find myself reflecting on: Friends. If this year had a theme, I'd say that 2014 was the year for friends. As much as my family has come through in the past few years, the one constant has been the love and support of my friends. Read on:

Olga is one of my oldest and dearest friends. We have known each other for almost 40 years. The benefit of being friends with someone this long, is that she knows me better than anyone else in my life. She sees through me. And she doesn't put up with any BS (excuse that). But that goes both ways too. When I got sick last summer and was in bed for 4 days recovering from a kidney infection, she checked on me, got me lunch, and made sure I took my antibiotics and drank tons of water. She's very  perceptive, intuitive, giving, kind and quite the trouble maker. I know I can count on her.

When I ran my first 5k last October, I began the process on my own, arriving at Chapman University all alone. Fortunately, I found my friends who were running, but shortly after the race began, they took off. I had chosen not to try to keep up, because I had my own pace and routine to follow. Right before the finish line, I saw my friends--Marian, Katie, Wendy, Rhonda and others and they yelled and cheered as I crossed the finish line. With tears streaming down my face, they came after me, hugging me, with words of praise and admiration, because they knew what this race meant to me. Marian especially. She's been my friend for 30 years. She has a kind heart, is wise, caring, encouraging and a woman of faith that I will admire for the rest of my life. I am also excited to spend more time with all these friends as I venture into the healthy world of running races-they all encourage me! I know I can count on them.

Then there are the new friendships that are being forged. Friends that I have made at work. I love my job and I am always cheerful and happy when I am there. I revel in the opportunity to spread happiness and help my fellow cast members enjoy spreading magic, as well as have work be magical for all of us. What I didn't expect is an out pouring of comfort and care from them. Thanksgiving day, I was excited to share my big pot of potato soup with work mates, but that didn't happen. The soup spilled before I could get it to work. I was devastated and couldn't shake the anger and frustration I felt. The unexpected happened. One girl chased me down in the bathroom as I washed up to grab me and hug me until my shoulders relaxed and I dumped on her what happened. She dried my tears and stayed with me as I washed the soup off my jacket. Others walked by, saw the devastation on my face and comforted me, and worked their magic to cheer me up. I was in shock. The roles of encourager, and magic maker were reversed. Instead of me reaching out to others, they reached out to me. This still brings tears to my eyes. What a joy to discover that I have work-mates that I can count on!

I also suggest that you have young friends. It has been such a great blessing to have former students from my church's youth ministry become very dear friends of mine. I love watching them grow into young adults and forge ahead into their adventures in life. And they pray for me too! Although I want to pour out a ministry of love into their hearts, they continue to pour love and let me know that I can count on them.

There have been so many other moments where my friends have ministered to me, prayed for me, and comforted me. I am always shocked in these instances because (like we all think) it is so much easier to give these things than to accept it. I look stronger if I'm giving, rather than receiving friendship. The thing is, though, if I don't receive the friendship, how are my friends ever going to be able to give? How can I give friendship if I can't receive it? This year has taught me to receive friendship, and let others be there for me. This is a great gift--to know that someone can count on you.

My first 5k run

It's early in the afternoon and I'm recovering from running (ok, walk/running) my first 5k. I've showered, had a bite to eat, and I'm on my 4th cup of coffee. I'm having a difficult time concentrating on writing my 8 page paper that's due by midnight tonight. I'm a jumble of emotions, reflecting on my first experience of joining over 1800 participants in the  Chapman University 5k walk/run for scholarship funds.

I need to write this down. So, with only 1 page done, 7 pages to go on my paper, I'm putting it aside to share with you my first 5k running experience.

I was so nervous, I had to pee. Before, during and after the race. Why was I nervous? I have no idea! Maybe because it was a public venue and I'm out there with tons of other people-kind of intimidating when I'm used to just focusing on a treadmill in a gym. Now I'm here and there's real athletes out there, pros who do this all the time!

Then I met up with my friends. And they've all done this before, but they love me and hug me and encourage me. Then the race starts and there they go!!! I thought about pushing myself to keep up with them, but I heard my trainer's voice in my head, "pace yourself, do your best, but don't push it." So, I walked 8 minutes, ran 1 minute, walked 4 minutes, ran 1 minute, walked 4 minutes, ran 1 minute....holy crap this is hard! What am I doing? Just keep going....

At about the 1 1/2 mile mark I wanted to stop. My shins hurt and people just kept passing me by...but I kept going. At the 2 mile mark, after watching several volunteers clap and cheer me on, and pass me water, I had tears in my eyes. I'm doing this! And it doesn't matter when I finish, the point is I'm doing it, and I'm gonna finish. AND if you would have asked me just 1 year ago if I wanted to run a 5k I would have laughed in your face and said "NO WAY!" But I am. Right now.

About 1/4 mile from the finish line, 2 of my friends came back looking for me. One of them walked with me. She cheered, told me to match her pace, stretch my stride, and told me a story about a mountain run she did (mountain run? there's an idea! hmmmm...) About a minute from the finish line, I picked up my pace and ran for it, with the rest of my friends right next to the finish line, cheering, clapping, snapping photos...

And I ran through the finish line. I did it. I did it. I did it.

Oh my goodness gracious. I did it!!! And I got a medal!!! And I cried. And I wasn't nervous or intimidated anymore. My friends hugged me, congratulated me. We congratulated each other! (See why it's hard to concentrate on writing an 8 page paper?)

Oh I need to do this again...

What the F%$* am I Doing????

Yep, I used foul language. Out loud.

Ok, I didn't exactly say it out loud. I looked at Olga and whispered the word and she knew exactly what I said. And she laughed cuz she knows how uncharacteristic it is for me to even think this way.

But I must be honest and confess that this is exactly what I thought when I signed my lease and handed over a check for $$$$ for my new home. My stomach was in knots. The feeling I had was the exact same feeling I have when I go on a first date. Panic attack. Freak out. Can't breathe. Sweaty palms. Yep. First date.

There are very few things that make me nervous. Stand in front of 500 people and speak: piece of cake!!! First date: No thanks, which is probably why it's been a few years since I've been on a first date. Cuz I get so nervous I have to go pee every 5 minutes!!! (Note to self: make sure to take toilet paper with me to the new home on moving day)

So what does a first date and a new home have in common? And why am I so nervous about the experience? I think it's due to the level of uncertainty involved with it.

First date: Go out with a guy that either I've never met, or in a social environment that is new to how we relate to each other. My mind is in overdrive: Do I look ok? What do I talk about? Am I making a fool out of myself (which I usually do cuz I say things I don't even remember!) Will he laugh at my jokes? Do I want to see this guy again? I hope I don't fart. Now what?!

New Home: This is the first time in my entire life that I am moving out all by myself. The kids are grown and going their separate ways. I'm doing this all by myself! I'm finally all alone! OMG-I'm all alone! Can I do this? Will I balance my budget and pay my rent on time? OMG-I need to buy dish towels! And dish soap! Can I really do this? What if all the necessary variables don't work? Don't forget the toilet paper.

What the ---- am I doing?

Some people, like a few friends of mine, love uncertainty. I had one friend (who's married now, go figure) who loved first dates. She would get so excited, looking forward to meeting someone new and learning about him. She's nuts! (no, she's not. Tracy's one of my best friends, and the one who'd usually calm me while I waited for my date to show up) She handles uncertainty so well! I really admire her.

I love challenges and taking on new experiences and learning new things. But uncertainty? I have a very difficult time with uncertainty. And this moving into my new home thing? There's so much uncertainty involved.

Which is why praying is such a good idea. I'm so glad that God forgives me when I use a foul word.

June 24, 2011 The day listening ended.

The above day is the day my dad left this world and went to heaven to spend the rest of eternity singing Jesus' praises. 3 years ago.

There has been no other loss of a person that has affected me (and many others) so deeply.  What has been significant about this last year is I that my grieving process has left me feeling alone, with no one to listen to me.

Now, before you run to my side, let me clarify something. My dad was my listener. He listened to me when I needed someone to talk over stuff. What kind of stuff? Life stuff. Like raising kids, dealing with ex-husband, changing jobs, going back to school, life changes.  In fact, he's the reason I volunteered to be a camp counselor for my church's high school summer camp to Hume Lake. He's the reason I volunteered to be a chaperone for the high school missions trip. He's the reason I went back to school.  Ok, he's not the reason for all these choices, but when I talked to him about these ideas, he listened. He didn't decide for me, in fact, he would usually say, "Well, if God wants you to do it, you need to be open to it and let God work it out." Usually when I talked to him, I would come up with my own solution. The conversation would be me saying "this is what's going on" and "this is what I'm gonna do," and "what do you think?" He would just listen.

Is this what you would call a "Sounding board?" Yeah, dad was that for me. And I've really needed him this year. My life is going through so many changes with school, work, grown up children, moving and growing up myself! He is not here to listen to me. For some reason, listening and watching others grieve became extremely difficult for me to endure. So much so that at some point over a year ago, I isolated myself in a few areas of my life.

In the last 3 years, someone, anyone will come up to me and tell me how much they miss my dad. Because I inherited my dad's sense of responsibility and caring, I automatically wanted to help and comfort those who miss my dad too. But for a long time I just couldn't. In fact, it caused me pain to hear it. So much so that I couldn't even go to church on a regular basis. I know it seems crazy, but because I lost my listener, my comfort, I couldn't comfort those who felt the loss of my dad. I couldn't listen. To be honest, at this point, I'm not sure I'm ready to listen.  Thankfully, I'm just like my dad and I know I need to just get up and get going. Life goes on. My life must go on. And my friends and family who are grieving as well, I need to be a part of them. I know I'm not responsible for their comfort, but we can comfort together.

And I need to listen. Because I am my father's daughter. And I know that with God's strength and comfort, I can come out of my isolation and serve God in the way I'm supposed to.

What's been helping me through this past year? A few people. One of them is my long time childhood best friend, Olga. She lives next door and we've known each other for 38 years. She's the one friend who knows me better than anyone. And she knows what I'm missing.  She's listened. A lot. We've listened to each other as we watch our children become grown ups. She's a comfort because she knows me so well, even when she doesn't know what to say, I know she still cares for me.

The others are my kids. I've had several opportunities this year to have my own little family together and that blesses me more than anything. My kids are all grown and I watch them as they go through their adult lives and just sit back and wait for them to come to me with their joys and troubles. So I can listen to them. What is significant about this is that they all listen to me when I need to share my joys and troubles.  As grown ups, they are all willing to let me talk about my stuff and they just listen. Of course, sometimes the advice they give is...well...not advice I would use, but the point is they listen.

There is one more thing that helps. And I just realized this a few days ago: Talking and sharing with others who will listen. This is what happened: I'm volunteering at Vacation Bible School at church this week. I was chatting with a boy and I mentioned my dad. Another lady standing next to us mentioned meeting my dad a few years ago, on her first Sunday visiting our church. I carried on the conversation with them as I shared a few memories of my dad. We were all in smiles and I realized I enjoyed the conversation. It warmed my heart. I talked and they listened.

I miss my dad. Grieving is not easy. And I share my grieving process in the hopes that it helps someone else, like my readers, and gives comfort in the understanding of what grieving is like. It's been 3 years, but like I said, when you lose someone very significant, it makes a huge impact on you, and everyone else.

Then  you find stuff that helps. Like talking. And sharing. And allowing others the opportunity to listen.

And becoming the listener.