“We live in a world of perception,” my dad says, leaning back in his chair across from my younger, 24-year-old self. “For example,” he points at the kitchen table, “what color would you say that table is?”
I stare down at the table. It’s obviously brown. He obviously has some point he’s trying to make. –But I’m young and stubborn, and I’ll be darned if I’ll let him make it. “It’s light brown.” There. It’s not just brown; it’s light brown.
He sits up and leans forward, bushy eyebrows narrowed over sharp, blue eyes. “You’re right. It’s light brown. But,” he snaps, holding a finger up (pause for affect), “are you sure you’re seeing the same color of light brown I am?” Continue reading →
I started the section “Catharsis” as a catch-all of things that I need to get out, and hopefully make some sense of along the way. I’m hoping that one of these days in the future, I can look back through them and say, “Thank you, Father, for getting me through that one.”
I’m hoping that I can see with clear eyes– that I can look at the experiences, memories and painful moments I write now. Maybe then, I can see what I’ve done wrong and need to change, how I can grow to be better than I am now; more than I am now. I’m hoping, because something has to give; somehow I have to learn, because the consequences of not learning are too painful. Not just for me, but for my loved ones as well. Continue reading →
Anger and I have been friends for years. We’re comfortable with each other, you might say. We move in the same circles. I’ve tried to “get a grip” several ways – it seems like a million of them -, and few seem to really work.
Battling anger with kids in the house is a fight especially full of danger. It’s so easy to explode. You wake up in the morning, full of optimizism and you think, “Today, it’s going to be different. Today, I’m not going to get angry. I’m going to take a deep breath, no matter what, and stay calm.” Continue reading →
Love – how deeply that’s on my mind now. Just recently, I’ve become aware of the overwhelming love I feel for God, for my children and for others. How sad that it took so much so-called life to reach this point.
C asked me once, “Mom, what’s a dad?” He’d never really had one, you see. My husband and I separated before he was born, and at six years old, C didn’t have the answer to that question. He was trying to find it.
I told him, “You have a biological father that helped make you who you are. Then you have a dad – and a dad is the one who does the ‘dad’ stuff with you. The one who throws a ball with you, wrestles with you and so on. Sometimes, your dad and your father are the same person. Sometimes, they aren’t.” Continue reading →
I came across a link on Facebook a few days ago – a news story about a couple that brutally and sexually assaulted their son. The boy died in the hospital, suffering from shaken baby syndrome, as well as numerous bruises and broken bones. He was one month old.
According to the bible, we’re supposed to love our fellow man. We’re not supposed to hold murder in our thoughts. Right now, that’s an incredible struggle. Every day, week, month and year, more news stories crop up, spewing the nauseating, heart breaking stories of attacks on our children. Many of those attacks are either caused by, or facilitated by, the very people who are supposed to protect them. Continue reading →
“Man, this sucks!” I looked up to see my 11-year-old son, C, stomp into the kitchen where I was working at the table. Full of preteen disgust and frustration, he banged the dishes around as he cleared the sink out to run fresh dish water. “Why do I always have to do the dishes?”
At the now common sounds of anger, frustration and petulance for having to actually do something, I pushed away from my laptop and walked over to the sink. All these things I wanted to say flooded my head. Things like, “I don’t know, why do I always have to go to work? Why do we always have to cook supper?” None of it was helpful.
I stepped between him and the sink, finished running the dish water and started washing the dishes without saying a word. I was in my “I’m a mad, but calm, mom” attitude. As he reached to grab some trash off the counter top, I snapped, “Just leave it alone!” So much for calm.
He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, tears in his eyes. “Mom, I just don’t understand why I’m always the one that has to do the dishes!” Continue reading →
I’m a work at home single mom, living in a house with six other family members. Although I try to think of my family, I’ll have to admit, I’m often stuck in my own problems, thought processes, work and so on. After two days with nerve spasms shooting up my neck and a full day of work, today was one of those days.
Last night, I’d been walking around with my hand on the back of my neck, trying to calm the pain, when I walked through my bedroom. My six-year-old daughter stuck her arms up from her bed, wanting a hug.
“Are you alright?” I asked. She nodded into my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“I dreamed your neck hurt,” she said, pulling back and patting my cheek. Her lip trembled. “I love you, mommy.” Continue reading →