Moments with You #4

It’s been a while since I’ve had the capacity to write much for myself, but here I am with a 4th installment of “moments with you.” I first started writing these short vignettes about important unnamed people in my life back in 2017. They are mostly for me, but if you’d like, feel free to read along. :) 

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You say, “do you want to see a doggie?” Several of us chime in, “doggie, do you mean rabbit?” So far, you’ve pulled a monkey and a rabbit out of your pocket, like a magician, at just the right moments for her. I don’t know why any of us are surprised when you do, in fact, pull a tiny dog puppet out of your pocket. She, of course, is delighted, which seems to be her default setting with you. The louder, the sillier, the better, with her. She loves each and every one of your made-up games. As you pull out the tiny puppet from your coat pocket, I laugh and joke about what the airline security folks might have thought as they screened your jacket, seeing a pocket full of tiny toys. Maybe they marveled the same way I do now, at your thoughtfulness. I imagine you walking around the house in the days before your traveled here, gathering her favorites from the last time she was there. I picture you pocketing each tiny toy and the joy at knowing she would soon be playing with them again. I smile at you, in my imagination, imagining her look of surprise and squeal of delight as the animals appear one by one. 

&&&&

I feel like a little kid again, playing this way.  All of the sudden I take stock of the other adults around me, and notice she isn’t with any of us. As I turn around, I see her with you, happy, playing, exploring. You’re showing her how it works and she’s looking up at you. You stand with your arms out, ready to catch her if she stumbles or falls. She doesn’t notice, but I do. 

&&&&

At first I think you’re driving, maybe that’s the background noise I hear. But no, as we chat about our days recounting the highs and lows it turns out you’re cooking, again. I’m leaving late and was just starting to worry about whipping up the dinner in time, but there you are already ahead of me. Ahead of me, and beside me. 

&&&&

You rewind and pause the show for me. How sweet, I think. I come back and you tell me that I’ve missed a great line of dialogue, so I excitedly sit back down to watch. You press play and I’m waiting for the great line and as the scene plays out, it’s the worst line, the most annoying one. For a split second I’m incredulous, confused. You can’t hold back your snickering anymore and it turns into a laugh. You got me, I’m laughing now too, you know me, we both smile. I’m so glad I’m yours. 

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You’re back, thank goodness. It just feels better to have you in the building, even on the days our paths don’t cross. Your sense of humor, your passion for helping the kids, the way you balance it all, even the way you complain only in a commiserating type of way, I appreciate it all. I had heard great things about you, but I didn’t expect to claim you as a close friend. Our lives are so different, and yet, are they really? I do like your wisdom, and I feel good when you think I have some to share, too. As we stand and chat about everything and nothing what I feel most of all is gratitude.

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You practically push us out the door, and now that we are in the car, I’m already glad. You claim that this is what you want, for you, but I think I know deep down it’s actually also what you know we need. As we stroll through long aisles and laugh at titles and book jackets far outside our taste, I think about how you knew just what we needed. As we sip our milkshakes, reflecting on the year behind and setting intentions for the year ahead, I think about how fortunate we are to have you looking out for us, so often intuitively knowing just what we need.

&&&&

You answer the call and I feel immediate relief. She’s smiling now, just seeing your face seems to do the trick, and I take a deeper breath myself. She pulls the phone close to her face and examines yours. I wish we could really pull you closer, across the miles. When I speak to her I so often hear your voice coming out of my own mouth. How lucky it is that your voice in my mind is the one telling me I can do it, not to sell myself short. I hope that’s how she will hear my voice in her own head someday, when life inevitably carries her miles away from me. 

&&&&

The usual chatter is going on around you as we recount the day’s events over spaghetti and homemade meatballs. All of the sudden you proudly, and loudly, announce “mustache!” You are grinning ear to ear, delighting in our laughter as we turn and notice your crafty noodle mustache. You are ever surprising us with your wonderful sense of humor and your silly antics. I love how you seem nearly always ready for a game, a laugh, a smile. You bring so much joy into our lives. 

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Four Years of the Both/And Life

Tomorrow marks four years since Maggie died, and somewhat strangely, it also marks two months (8 weeks) of marriage for me & Ted. Reflecting on these two very real, very different "anniversaries" this week has caused me to again reflect on what has become a bit of a life motto for me, which is living the "both/and" life.

To endeavor to grieve Maggie's loss sincerely and fully, and still also fully embrace the life and love ahead for me, was a goal, a struggle, I first publicly shared about seven weeks after she died. At some point along the way, I started referring to this as the both/and life, writing Grief isn't my whole life, but it has become an important part of it. I am learning how to embrace life that is happening now while still missing Maggie, how to hold the terrible and the beautiful in both hands and let them coexist.

Of course at the time, I had no idea I would meet Ted or that so much brilliantly beautiful happiness would come into my life because of him. Or that although they would never meet, they would share a birthday. The ultimate invitation to the both/and life... each year as I miss her on her birthday, I get to celebrate his right by his side. Some might see it as a weird coincidence, but it's actually comforting to me. Maybe it is divine intervention, or maybe it really is an odd coincidence, or maybe it's fate. Or maybe no matter why it is, the what I choose to make of it is more important- it's a beautiful personal reminder that love and loss are both essential pieces of what it means to be human. To me, it's also a striking reminder that life is short.

Most of this week I've spent sitting in data meetings, or stats classes, or answering emails, or giving reading tests to Kindergarten and first grade students. Some days, I've had unwelcome painful memories rush in and open up doors in my mind without even knocking, just interrupting my thoughts and ushering in feelings of anxiety and deep sadness along with them. Some days, I've blissfully daydreamed myself back to the sand on the south coast of Bermuda, reminiscing on each and every incandescently happy moment of the magical beachside candlelit dinner Ted set up for us on our honeymoon.

I can't choose to experience just one or the other. My love for Maggie remains as real and true as it has ever been, and so my grief does too, as I miss her in new ways through new seasons of my life. She would be seventeen, and I often wonder what that would look like for her. What would she have been like at our wedding? Would she have danced to our songs? Would she have brought a date? What would she be planning for her own future now, if she were still here? How many more pets would she have talked my parents into bringing into their home?

And also I can't spend all my time wondering, stuck in what-ifs and the missing. To quote one of her favorites, "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live" (said Dumbledore to young Harry, as the boy spent hours in front of a mirror showing him his parents, who had died).

Just as real and as true, and just as overwhelming, is my love for the life I am building with my beloved husband. To come home each night to a man who shares my hopes, dreams, and faith, (not to mention much of my taste in TV shows and late-night snacks) is an unbelievable privilege and joy. He is a better partner for me than I ever had dared to dream I would find. He is unfailingly patient and consistently affectionate and seriously hilarious. His witty jokes, creative problem-solving, tight hugs, and sweet words make every day better than it would otherwise be. He cheers me on through success and comforts me through sadness. He has a curiously clever mind and a singing voice that makes old ladies we don't even know turn around and compliment him in church. Some days I look over at him on the couch and I think my heart might just explode with the warm fuzzy happiness of knowing that he is mine and I am his. 

I get to pursue a career I find deeply meaningful, alongside some of the best people I have ever met. My relationships with my parents, Ben, and Katie have been stretched and grown and deepened in ways I couldn't have foreseen. I've married into a new (to me), wonderfully tight-knit, loyal, and fun family. Even on the most difficult days of this life, I feel ridiculously blessed when I think about the people with whom I share this wild, weird, beautiful, terrible, lovely human experience.

Sometimes I feel pressure to write something sort of profound, or at the very least inspiring, when I write about grief, or love, or especially when I write about both. Today I don't have any wise words or call to action, just my own reflections to share. I think that maybe I knew the secret to living the both/and life all along, which is that you just do... to embrace all of the human experience means to love, which also means to grieve, which also means to love.

International Women's Day 2019

A note of appreciation to the women in my life:

I have been blessed with an unusual number of incredible women in my life, from the time I was young, up through today.

My mother is a formidable woman in the best way; she is one of the strongest people I know, in her power and in her resilience and in her love. I admire her and like her, and realize more with each passing year just how lucky I am to be her daughter. I will always be grateful for her pushing me to do my best, never letting me sell myself short, and being a safe base from which I could explore the world. How lucky I am to have had a model as a young girl of a woman who was driven in her career, happily in love with her husband, and fully engaged in parenting her children. Growing up and learning that parents are humans, too, complex and multidimensional, has only increased my respect and love for her as I reflect on my childhood years.

It was my parents' example which first helped me to push back in my mind against the patriarchal messages I heard as I grew up. Each time that I heard someone say that a husband should make all of the decisions in a home, or that a woman should not desire a career outside the house, or anything of the sort, I knew better because I had seen better. I got to witness my parents talking out decisions together, trying their best to arrive at a joint conclusion. I got to see my parents decide how to divide "family labor" and push back at the assumptions that the mother should always do the dishes or  always drive the children to sports practice or always tidy the living room. I knew that Mom cooked because most of the time, she liked to (and because Dad was, er, gifted in other areas...). I knew that when Dad spent time with us children he wasn't "babysitting" for Mom, he was being our parent, an equal partner with my Mom in building our family. I knew that when I had a field trip coming up, either parent would need to check their work schedule before agreeing to chaperone, and that both would want to if they could. I learned that it was okay if parents fit a stereotype for their traditional role, like Mom cooking or Dad mowing the grass (I should also note that Dad often washed dishes and Mom often did the weeding). It was okay if it was what came naturally or was agreed upon together, and it was also okay if they didn't fit those prescribed roles. I knew that Dad was much more likely to tear up in a children's movie than Mom, and that Mom was much more likely to want to play outside.

As I look to build my own marriage and become my own version of what it means to be a wife, I am grateful for their example. No people are perfect, but they are wonderful together. They balance each other out and have continued on loving each other through the best and worst of all life has thrown at them.

If my own mother wasn't enough of a blessing, I've also known incredible women in my extended family. I often think I am more like my two grandmothers than either of my parents, as a mostly-extroverted, card-writing, talk-to-anyone, loves-to-host-parties kind of person. Both of my grandmothers are also strong, kind, warm women. They each have incredible stories of persevering through extraordinary life circumstances, all the while loving their families fiercely. Each of them has their own ministry, official and unofficial, in which they tangibly love everyone around them. They are hardworking, fun, driven, loving women, and I am so blessed to have them in my life. They have both been present (whether in person or by phone call or letter or Facebook message) for all the major events in my whole life thus far.

I've also had the privilege of knowing even more wonderful women in my family, including my Aunt Jan who has been a kind of second Nana to me, showing up for concerts and sports games and graduations, sending Easter cards and giving big warm hugs. She is loud and funny and giving and loving. My aunts and my parents' cousins have also been there, cheering me on each step of my life, even as they care for their own families.

My little sister Katie, who is less and less "little" (is she taller than me? I'll deny it a bit longer...), is becoming an incredible woman herself. I am both apprehensive and hopeful for her future as a woman in our society. My dream for her is to become everything that she wants to be, knowing it is up to her to decide exactly what that looks like, and not for anyone else to prescribe for her. I hope she continues in becoming the strong, brave, smart, thoughtful woman she is already.

Soon, I'll be marrying into a second family, and I'm grateful to be getting to know even more inspiring women. My future mother-in-law is smart, kind, giving, and driven, always juggling several projects at a time, whether for her family or her church or her community. I can see why Ted loves and respects her so, and how she has helped shape him into the loving man he is today. I've had the good luck to have been able to meet her own mother, who is just as witty, warm, and generous herself. I'm looking forward to meeting more of his family as we continue towards our wedding!

I should take a minute to mention the women who have passed through my life just for short times, and still left an impression on me. I need to thank the Sunday school teachers, camp counselors, school teachers, Bible study leaders, and mentors who have given me their energy, their advice, and their life lessons. I wouldn't be where or who I am today without the classmates and coworkers who provided a listening ear and helped me discover my career path.

Finally, I have been surrounded in each season by lovely women as my friends. Some of my girl friends from elementary school remain in my life, even as we each pursue our own paths. Friends from high school and college have stuck around, staying in touch through technology and old-fashioned letters. This collection of amazing women are leaders, teachers, wives, students, professionals-- current and future forces for good. These are friends who would be, and have been, there for me at a moment's notice, ready to lend a hand despite their own full, busy lives. I'm grateful for "old friends" who have known me for so long, and have chosen to stay a part of my life.
Now in this season of graduate school, I find myself again surrounded by some of the most intelligent, kind, hardworking, generous women I have ever met. These are also women who I can call at any hour, with any problem. They will be the change-makers and the leaders of our field, I am sure of it.

Each of these women have lived unique stories, pressed on through challenges most people don't know about, loved bigger and deeper than I could explain. Their daily lives look vastly different from each other, and they are headed in all different directions. What they all share in common is that I admire something about the way they are living in this world as women, and they have touched my life.

Here's to you, the women in my life. Thank you for all that you are- for being examples, inspiration, and support. Thank you for your strength and courage, for being in my life, and for loving me so well. May you know your infinite value, and may you know the impact you make for good in the world. <3

Three Long Years & Growing through Grief

**If you or someone you know has been affected by suicide, this post may be difficult to read.**

May 19, 2015 out for ice cream after her choir concert

It's been three years today since suicide stole my little sister Maggie from us. Those words sting to type and still feel unbelievable, three long years later. It's true what they say- it doesn't get easier, you just get stronger.

The both/and life continues... So much life has happened for me, for my whole family, since Maggie's death. And with each and every milestone that passes without her, we feel her absence. I am planning my wedding with my best friend and soulmate, who she will never meet. It breaks my heart that she won't be there with me on what I'm sure will be one of the best days of my life.

I don't think my heart will ever be whole again. Maybe that's right and good. She will always be missing, and I will always be missing her. These three years I've been earnestly seeking a way to incorporate this lifelong grief into my life in a way that improves me. I feel strongly that it is right to both weep and laugh at my memories of her. Losing Maggie has changed me forever, and I am choosing to grow through my grief.

I say "I love you" all the time, constantly aware that tomorrow isn't promised. I care for the people in my life wholeheartedly and unapologetically. I am somehow less afraid of the darkness, because I know that I have faced something incomprehensible and continued on through it. I am calm and careful in every risk assessment I conduct with clients, knowing how important it is to make sure they know I am listening. I call my siblings some weekday afternoons just because. I work hard to keep margin in my life even during the busiest times of the semester. I actively count the blessings in my life so I don't miss the beauty of the human experience. I know that time with loved ones is more precious than any single other thing in this life.

Let me be clear: I will never say that Maggie's death happened for a reason, or that God called her home early, or anything of the sort. It will never be okay. And also, I can choose to be better for what I have endured and continue to process. Some hours, some days, I'm a mess. It's sad and it's hard and it isn't fair, and so I take my time to cry long and hard. Most days, I am actively engaged in building a life I love. It is not one or the other. It is missing her, remembering her, grieving her, even as I embrace the people and the life still in front of me.

Moments With You III

You walk through the door with the vacuum cleaner I completely forgot, and I think for the millionth time, how lucky am I? Lately I feel more aware of it than ever. At the movies, during time with my grandparents, while cleaning toilets, as we carry heavy things. Your love is patient and reliable and generous. You are there with me in the fun moments and busy moments and hard moments, all the same. Grateful cannot begin to describe how I feel in this moment, or in so many moments every day as you love me so well.

&&&&&&&

The living room looks so empty now, and your mom's car by comparison hardly has an inch to spare. I knew it would be sad, watching you both leave, even as I am excited for you in the new chapters you each are beginning. As I scrub and paint, I reflect on the past year and feel both happy and sad. Happy to have known you, sad to see you move on. Happy to welcome new friends into this home, sad for your absence here. A year filled with so many moments with you both. The time I tried to walk home with a heavy test kit and it was dark and I was tired and you drove to pick me up. The night we drank wine every time Hermione saved the day. The weekend days filled with homework and cooking and cleaning, and also the ones filled with visits from friends and family. What a blessing it has been to share a space with you.

&&&&&&&

You surprise me, even though this isn't my surprise party. As you watch me open my gifts in the parking lot- a soft fuzzy blanket and word board- I can't help but smile so wide at how well you know me. I'll miss you as you adventure and study by sunny beaches, and I'm touched by the way you planned ahead. I'm so proud of the man you are. 

&&&&&&& 

The smell of campfire-roasted-marshmallows makes me feel excited and relaxed, like I've really celebrated the season of summer. I'm so happy you invited us to join you for this short-notice night in nature. I love the way you squish us tight in your hugs, the way you make time for fun, and the way you work hard to make a home away from home for your family. As I watch the red and orange flames dance in the cool evening breeze, I take a deep breath and try to freeze this moment in my mind. If I could look back in time through past summer memories, I bet there would be a lot of moments just like this with you, in campgrounds and backyards and kitchens and living rooms. I'm so glad there will be more to come.

&&&&&&&

As I read your text, my eyes well up because my joy is spilling over. You've never been this way before, so giddy for me, with me. To be fair, it's never been this good and this right, either. I love that you love him. Your words are a confirmation of what I know to be true, that this is unlike anything I've known before, that he is unlike anyone I've known before. I thrill in your open arms and open heart to this new normal. What a sweet new normal this is, with new definitions of "us" and "we" and "family" on the horizon. 

&&&&&&&

Something doesn't seem quite right, and though I can't put my finger on it, the nervous feeling in my chest won't let me stay at home. I tell you, rather than ask; I'm coming over. I put my toes in the grass next to you and we chat. As the sun makes its way down through the sky you open up to me. I'm glad that I came. You are strong and beautiful and you make me feel less alone. I hope I do the same for you. I can't help feeling as I leave that perhaps I needed this time as much as you did. Too much time to be still and too little time to be still culminate in this evening good for both of us, company for you and a pause for me.

&&&&&&& 

Bright lights and fireworks and professional dancers and an international icon and 60,000 other people steal my attention, but I'm noticing you. You who give so generously, standing beside me in a t-shirt I picked out, smiling as you watch me scream-sing every word. You know how much this means to me and you document the moments one by one. I try not to step on the five gluten-free cookies you bought me for dinner before we found the hamburger stand, and I try to remember this night. I'm grateful for the lengths you go to make me happy, to give me good things, to spend time with me.

&&&&&&&

You help us to lay out the blanket that you brought and we all sit down to eat. What a view, with the sun slowly sinking over the green mountains. The cover/tribute band rocks out just loudly enough behind our conversation. You make me feel so glad I ventured out tonight for this perfect weather and good food. Over fresh squeezed lemonade and still-hot fries we relax into what's left of our summer. I know that when classes start and we are all busy and I'm tempted to skip fun times like these, you'll be there to push me to come anyways. When those days come again, remind me how we feel in this moment. 

Year 1 Reflections

As of this afternoon, I've officially completed my first year of grad school! What a year it has been. I am so glad I chose the field of School Psychology (or as one of my professors might say, it chose me). This past year I've learned a lot, and I am more convinced than ever that all of the long days and late nights will be well worth it to make a difference in the lives of students, their teachers, their families, and their communities. I'm also convinced that divine intervention led to perfect timing for me to meet some of the world's most generous, kind, intelligent, lovely human beings as a result of me starting grad school when I did and where I did (shoutout to my love Ted, my housemates Megan and Leah, and my co[heart]!). I am infinitely grateful for their support throughout this past year.

I wish I had the brain power to write some eloquent reflections, but I think my brain is tired after the past few weeks of final projects, exams, papers, and presentations, and this week of administering and scoring assessments (fluency week- check!). Instead, here are some sound-bite-sized reflections:

~A walk outside can do wonders for your state of mind on a busy day.
~It's important to learn how to do some things just "good enough." (Thanks, Karen!)
~Learning new things alongside others makes a steep learning curve so much more bearable. (shoutout to my co[heart] and the rest of the amazing SPSY students!)
~Stress can have a huge impact on your digestive system (oh hey, IBS symptoms appearing at the worst times).
~You know you're a nerd when you feel so pumped that you found the perfect article to cite for a key point in your paper after reading tons of abstracts.
~We expect so much of teachers and provide them with far too little support.
~I used to think 5 years sounded like a lot of time to spend in a graduate program; I now realize it's definitely not enough time to learn all that I need to learn about my field.
~Grad school might be the perfect time to start a relationship with a patient, understanding, loving partner.
~If you'd like to accomplish something slowly, try doing it at a large university with guidance from overworked professors. Expect to exchange at least five emails in order to establish a meeting, which will inevitably begin later and end earlier than you had hoped. You'll leave with more questions than you brought with you. Keep on keepin' on.
~When you're in grad school at a large university, you have access to so many interesting lectures and trainings that you'll never have time for them all. (But hopefully just a few really good ones!)
~No matter how many kids you work with, they will continue to surprise, frustrate, and inspire you in new ways.
~Trust that while the expectations of you will grow, so too will your skills in meeting them.

I'm excited to reach this small milestone, and I continue to be inspired and uplifted by such wonderful people in my life. :)

Moments With You II

It's been a long week of studying and working and here we are, spending our Saturday afternoon the same way. You're getting antsy and I'm getting cranky and so you suggest a walk. I'm so glad you did, because I start to feel better as we stroll hand in hand through the neighborhood nearby, peppered with cute houses and colorful leaves. It is a busy, beautiful season in our lives. I'm thinking to myself what a blessing it is to have you by my side. We get back to the house, settle onto the couch, and you look at me in thought. "What?" I say, and you say "thanks for spending so much time with me." And I smile and I laugh because I love spending time with you. You make everything better.

&&&&&&&&&&

As I trudge back to the student room it's like my body knows I've made it through the last requirement for today, and I can feel the wave of exhaustion swelling up to overtake me. When I walk in the room I see a sparkling gift bag on my shelf... I'm excited, then a voice in my head says it can't be for me, maybe someone ran out of room on their shelf, but I pull the bag down and I see, there on the top, a note for me from you all. With hearts drawn in ink and words written in love, as I read your support the tears well and my heart buoys. I have the best friends. She did, too. Oh how I wish she could have believed in how many more wonderful moments there were to come, that she could have felt in her soul the truth that we are never, ever walking through our hardest days alone.

&&&&&&&&&&

You seem so excited as you talk about your new dance class and the start to your cross country career. I love seeing your eyes light up as you grow in confidence in your abilities. You tell the funniest stories about your teachers and classmates and I again admire your story-telling skills. I wish I saw you more often during this stage of your life while you are quickly becoming an adolescent. Every time I see you you're taller and more mature and I know that these stages take forever when you're in them but go by in a blink of an eye for the rest of us. Your texts make me smile and I'm so thankful to see you doing so well.

&&&&&&&&&&

As we crunch through the leaves reining in the dogs with each passing squirrel, I can't help but picture our future, Taylor-Swift-style imagining the minute details of our happily ever after. We've talked about the dogs we might adopt someday, the home we might have someday, the life we might create someday. It's hard to believe it's only been months since I started calling you mine because it feels like we have fallen into love so naturally and effortlessly. But it does take effort, building this partnership with you, and every day we choose each other and it's everything I've ever wanted. You make me dinner and I pack your lunch and together we navigate the insanity of our schedules like it's easier than it is, because everything is easier when we do it together.