educational fun

i went on a field trip with my son's 5th grade class yesterday.  we live near washington, dc so we often find ourselves in one of the many museums, or somewhere in the city.  i enjoy dc, and there certainly is a lot to see, do and learn, but it's intense, often crowded, and i usually feel that the field trips are spent herding hyper kids instead of really learning. 
this week we went to stradford hall.  i am from central va, and had never even heard of it.  stradford hall is where robert e. lee was born, and is a plantation that has been restored and preserved.  i had an amazing time.  i was hesitant to go, as i assumed it would be another chaotic trip with little value outside of just time spent with my son- but it wound up being wonderful.  it was an hour and a half drive, and it's located in the middle of nowhere.  there are more than 2,000 acres of beautiful, rolling green pastures, and it's flanked by forest. 

we went on a tour of the great house and part of the grounds.  the kids got to sit in the schoolroom and be berated by the schoolmaster in full costume.  it was fun watching them try to decide if she was being serious or not.  they got to sign a contract with quills, and wash clothes with a scrub board.  they had a short lecture on fossils (the plantation is by the potomac river and there are many fossils that wash up on the shores there) and then top off the day by hiking down to the river and looking for sharks teeth.  they were engaged, they learned some fun trivia, and had a really fun time.  i'm so glad i was able to be there with them.  i thoroughly enjoyed it! we plan on going back as a family and taking the full private tour, fishing some, and looking for more shark's teeth. if you live around here- you should absolutely check it out!
http://www.stratfordhall.org/

pink: the philosopher

i've alluded a bit to the fact that my marriage is not in a good place.  i've been separated for right about 6 months now.  that's hard to look at in black and white.  never in a million years would i have ever believed that i would be where i am today.  we both come from intact families- parents who are still married- for more than 40 years.  but, he lost his way.  maybe he never had direction to begin with.  i'm not sure.   i discovered on a painful day in october of last year that most everything i thought to be real, was really a lie.  he had slipped down a dangerous road of self preservation, and it led deeper and deeper into deceit.  he finally self destructed, and all of it came pouring out, like pus from a wound.  oozing, and sticky, hard to look away from, and disgusting to see.  it seared my heart, it changed my life, and my future. my world view, and my family will never ever be the same again.  

healing can be slow. slower than i'd like.  but, i really want to heal from the inside out, not scab up for the immediate relief that later gashes open and pours red and ugly- but really heal.  scarring up with soft, pink flesh that is healthy, strong, a forever reminder of the road i've traveled.  many things contribute to my healing.... and music has been a part.  i adore the artist pink.  i love that she says things many of us are thinking but might be afraid to share.  i know she's edgy, sometimes raw, but i feel like she's authentic.  that means a lot to me.  i don't like flashy, or edgy for sensationalism's sake- but pink is out there.  honestly.  one of her recent songs could have been written by my own hand.  i like to sing it loudly in the car, and let the soothing, healing balm of words carried on melody touch my heart.  the song i love is called simply 'try'.  you can hear it here, on youtube.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pPtlSF4TlJE 

the lyrics are perfect for me...

try
ever wonder 'bout what he's doin'
how it all turned to lies
sometimes i think that it's better
to never ask why

(chorus)
where there is desire
there is gonna be a flame
where there is a flame 
someones bound to get burned
but just because it burns doesn't mean you're gonna die
you've gotta get up and try, try, try
you gotta get up and try, try, try

funny how the heart can be deceiving
more than just a couple times
why do we fall in love so easy
even when it's not right

chorus

ever worry that it might be ruined
does it make you wanna cry
when you're out there doin what you're doin
are you just getting by
tell me are you just getting by, by, by

chorus

more than you ever wanted to know.. about ME!

i thought i'd share a little about me!
i don't know about you- but usually when i go to a blog, or when i'm reading a book, i like to scour the 'about me' section.  i like it when there are photos, and i love it when there is more than just a list of "mother, wife, writer, loves coffee'.  i like it when writers add something in the description that tells me a little more about who they are- what they enjoy doing- more than just drinking coffee and reading books.  i already assume that- we're writers.  what would life
 be without the black inkiness of coffee and the sustenance of other people's words?!

like anyone i suppose, there are many layers to me- but i'd love to share just a bit with you.
the obvious is that i'm a mother.  i have four children - my oldest, a son, is 11.  the next in line is also a son and he's almost 8.  third comes the last son, and he is 6.  my baby is a daughter and she is closing in on 5. i've moved out of baby land and into full-on kid world, and parenting life is simultaneously wonderful and the most difficult thing i ever do.  right now, i'm a single mother.  biggest shock of my life.  i've been married for 13 years, still am married, but in october of last year, a day changed my life forever.  due to a series of challenging events, my husband expunged information he had been hiding for our entire relationship.  news that i never dreamed was sitting below the surface.  news that continued to trickle out over the next almost 5 months as i withstood wave after wave of pain and grief.  we aren't living together.  i don't know what the future holds.  many things are unknown right now, but i am here, doing the work, being present.  learning to function in a role i never wanted or expected i'd be filling.  but i'm proud of myself.

my sons seem to have some struggles.  my oldest is diagnosed with asperger's syndrome (on the autism spectrum) as well as adhd.  my middle son looks like he is probably on the spectrum as well- we see a specialist next week- and my youngest son is absolutely adhd.  my daughter?  she's  just sassy and hyper.  i used to be judgemental about families with multiple children struggling with mental/behavioral/emotional difficulties.  i made assumptions about the parents that sting me now.  the reality is, nothing i've done has caused this.  and nothing i do can 'fix' it. my sons are amazing people, and they are also complicated, and challenging.  some days are pure chaos from the overwhelming sensory needs, social misunderstandings, and brain struggles.  i'll talk more on this as time goes by.

my husband was a marine- so for my entire marriage, i was a military wife.  i have friends scattered all over the world, and miss the marine corps with all of my heart.  it's a special family, and after 13 years, i'm sad that we're no longer a part of it. 

by myer's briggs standards, i'm an enfp.  look it up if you don't know what that means- it's good stuff.  basically that means that i think too much, i am sometimes loud, emotional, hyper, not so organized, creative, fun, moody... to list a few. 

i'm 35- and not afraid to admit that.  while it's going entirely too fast, i'm not embarrassed of my age, and not overly afraid of aging.  i'm proud of who i'm becoming- and that has taken time.  prayerfully in 10 more years, i'll be that much further along in my capability to love, and serve, and grow. 

while i'm not big on astrology, i am a gemini- the twins- meaning i have a 'double personality'- and, i have to admit- it fits.  i simultaneously love anne of green gables, and band of brothers.  i love healthy, green, organic food- and junk food too.  i like to read deep, educational books, and adore lots of reality tv. maybe all of that balances me out.  yeah, let's go with that.

i'm honest. i say things that sometimes make people squirm.  i ask hard questions. i love fiercely, have a quick temper (which makes me sad), and am learning how to really cry.  i like makeup and dresses, but love to hike and get dirty.  i can be flaky, but there's nothing i love more than a conversation that dives into the deep- emotionally, theologically, and topically.  i like to be with people, but i also love alone time. 

that's enough for now.  if you stay, you'll learn more.  my heart will begin to fill up the screen again.  i used to blog.  daily.  for about 4 years.  i loved interacting with my readers, and hope that i can build some of that again.  i aim to speak about hard things- my separation, God, parenting, mental illness, but i also hope to share silly things too. write to me- tell me who you are.  i love to meet new people.
much love my fellow storm dwellers!
-H

Showing Up

Usually when I sit down to write, i have some idea of where i'm going to take it.  today- no clue.  my brain is fried, i'm very tired, and i'd like to go to bed.  but i have more work to do, and want to keep writing because part of the struggle as a writer is to just show up. each day.  over and over.  writing.  pouring heart and soul and fluff and deep onto the screen.  splash across with many words in order to mine out the nugget that is waiting in the dark ready to be unearthed.
so today, i write. for writing's sake.

my friend found a job for me to apply for.  i need to get a job, as i need to help support my family now.  it's a writing job, right here in my town, and i am qualified for it.  my paralysis comes from the actual resume writing.  how i wish i could just write an essay about how i'd be the best suited for the job... given the chance to weave words around my story and let them see my heart and strengths.  unfortunately for me, resumes are intended to be an at-a-glance look at who i am and what i have to offer.  so, my writing to impress the people at the writing job will have to be succinct and strong.  i pray i can do it. 

just yesterday i timidly told God that i wanted to write.  i wanted to be able to support my family with words, but that i recognized that it sounds frivolous and far fetched.  easier to call myself a waitress, or a receptionist... those are tangible things.  writing is open ended.. has no real boundaries... anyone can claim to be a writer- so, it's frightening to think that by the use of language that i might be able to feed my children.  i said i wanted to write, but i knew that if i am able to, it will be by his hand.  he will have to open doors and shine the light telling me 'walk this way'.  through fear and doubt, i told him i would write what he would have me write- but to please bring the opportunity.  this morning i awoke to the job ad from my friend.  i love those moments. the ones with the big flashing arrows that point the way.  i realize that this might not be my job in the end, but i don't think it a coincidence that i asked for opportunity and hours later one was laid in my lap.

i'll keep you posted. i need to stop stalling and work on my resume.  glad i was given a shove. 

It's a Brutiful Life

wonderful.  lovely.  dropped my children off at school this morning after a morning filled with fighting, yelling and hurt.  it started off as any other morning, but my oldest was tired, and not happy with me waking him up for school.  i let him sleep in a bit- but he was still frustrated, and in short order, he had everyone here whipped up into an emotional frenzy.  he was focusing in on my next son, which is a common occurrence.  after he went after him several times, and i had scolded him and tried to redirect him several times, he went after him again and hit him.  my middle son then cried out in desperation, 'mom, please can i be in another family.  please.  i want to be in a different family.'  he was sobbing, and my heart was shredded. this is mental illness.  this is the face of the pain it can inject into families. this is the fallout of a brain that works differently than others do.  the pain that those words seared into my heart won't soon lessen. i looked back at my oldest son and yelled- 'do you see what you're doing to him?!  your bullying is killing his spirit!'  my middle son just sobbed as he clung to my leg, and i stood in the middle of the storm wanting to die.  wanting a do-over.  wishing that i could somehow change, or stop or reverse the struggle we've had for so many years.
my oldest blinked- recognizing to some degree that he had hurt both me and his brother- i know he didn't mean to, and hurting our hearts wasn't his intention- but it was the result of his anger, his impulse, his irritation.  the saddest part is that my angry response to him, provoked by the hurting heart of my middle son, poured acid into his soul.  i hate this cycle.  i hate that i'm not more patient. mature.  gracious.  i hate that i get so angry, and so hurt, and am so easily jerked around by his mood.

the truth is, that my anger isn't really with him.  i hate the behavior, and i get angry about the drama it creates in our home, but I'm not angry with him as my son.  sadly, i don't think that's the message he hears.  i try hard not to stab with my words- words that would make me feel justified in the moment, but that would create a crust of oozing pain over his heart.  but i do yell.  i try so hard not to... and then he hits his brother, and through the broken hymn of a shattered heart, my mama bear instinct kicks in and i yell to defend the wounded.  it's a sick dance we share, and one that is often repeated multiple times in a day. 

it's night now.  i started this early this morning. when the pain was fresh, and the hurt was raw.  i wound up writing him a letter telling him what i need him to hear.  that i love him, that i am proud of him, and that i hate our fighting.  he received it well... then on his own went to his brother to apologize and to tell him that he loves him.  thankful for those victories.  it's messy here.  if you stick around, you'll begin to see- but it is also beautiful. as momastary blogger Glennon Melton says- 'life is brutiful'.  a thick mixture of being brutal and beautiful.  i couldn't agree more.  

I totally CAN'T handle it!

After reading this article  http://natepyle.com/confronting-the-lie-god-wont-give-you-more-than-you-can-handle/ I felt compelled to speak again.
Have been waiting for the 'right time' to begin writing in blog form, and this gave me the emotional shove to do it.

I'm sitting in a big pile of crap.  I am.  My life has forever changed, I am grieving, things have happened to me and my family that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.  And, in this pain, people want to help.  They want to give me a solution, or extend hope, or even placate me so that they can feel better and not have to absorb any of my grief.  It's scary to sit with someone when they're hurting.  It's easy to feel inadequate, or useless or intrusive if you have nothing to offer but kind eyes and a quiet tongue.  However, I can tell you, that often that is all I want or need.  The things that are pressing into my life and causing pain are things that will not be easily solved, erased or fixed.  There is no clear solution, and in every way it looks as though my struggle will continue for a long time to come.  That's just life.  Loving me (and others who also wade through pain) sometimes means just sitting with us and hurting some too.  Shouldering a bit of the burden.  Reminding us that we are not forgotten, or less than, or alone. 
One of the things that has been said to me often through this is that God doesn't give us more than we can handle.  I know that this sounds lovely coming off of well intentioned lips, and is meant to be some sort of strange compliment in the middle of pain, but... it's just simply not true.  Walk it out- continue down the road of what that means- if God doesn't give us more than we can handle- then are those whose lives are fairly easy less competent?  Are they less faith-filled, reliable, intelligent?  And if God gives us what we can handle then does that mean that those who have pain heaped into their laps in lions shares are saintly?  special? set-aside? God has no need of us.  It is we who need him.  And when do we recognize this more clearly than in the middle of searing pain?  Often it is our pain, our inability to 'handle' it that pushes us into his lap, crying out for mercy, relief, comfort.  Because ultimately we are unable to comfort ourselves sufficiently.  We need him.  He knows we need him.  My circumstances have driven me to need him to handle it.  I know I am unable to handle what I am experiencing.  Strangely enough, there is comfort in that.  Knowing that to get out of this crisis, He will have to move mountains.  That my life itself will speak to his grace because there will be no way i can take credit for handling it.

I'm thankful I can't handle it.  I'm thankful that I am close to the one who can.  Now I just have to remind myself of this in the moments i think I'll never make it to the other side.....