Giving and Receiving

'Tis the season of want. 'Tis the season of wish lists. 'Tis the season of wrapping paper and bows and festivities. 'Tis the season of merriness and also loneliness. 'Tis the season of need. 'Tis the season of hunger. 'Tis the season of goodwill towards men. 'Tis the season of charity. 'Tis the season of hope.


This time of year never fails to bring out the absolute best in people. Even when the media forecasts economic doom, each holiday season I am amazed by others' charity.


I was raised by parents who greatly believed in charity. My mother is possibly the most generous person I know. It is from her I inherited a deep sense of charity. My heart swells with pride each time my own children take a box and load it with old toys and books they want to share with other children. They happily help me unload donations at Goodwill, graciously drop their coins into Salvation Army buckets, and carefully select items for food drives.

Three years ago, a fellow teacher and very good friend came came to myself and other teachers and told us that his church was sponsoring Angel Tree Ministries for the holiday season. He informed us that Angel Tree Ministries partner with churches across the nation to help children with parents in prison. For Christmas, his church was collecting donated gifts for such children in the city we teach in. Having volunteered at the Cook County Jail and also having countless students over the years with loved ones in prison, I immediately volunteered to help.

That night, I raided Target. With the help of my daughter, we selected gifts for pre-teens and teenagers, since there was a great need for that age range. The gifts we selected made me giddy. I imagined kids, so similar to many of my students, opening them and feeling the same. I couldn't wait to share my donations.

The next day, I casually mentioned what we'd done to one of my friends. He was moved enough to graciously match my donation! So, that night, I raided Target again and purchased several more gifts for pre-teens and teenagers. My dining room overflowed with colorful purses, fun games, scented lotions, funky hats and gloves, the latest best sellers,  footballs, soccer balls, and makeup sets. Many children were going to have a brighter holiday.

The Angel Tree donations were delivered that weekend. Later, my friend shared pictures of the afternoon recipients received their gifts. Pictures of smiling parents selecting gifts for their children warmed my heart. I hoped that for just a moment the burdens those single mothers or grandparents felt because they were the sole providers and caregivers now, were lightened. Over the years, I'd helped many charities, but helping Angel Tree warmed a place in my heart that hadn't been warmed since the last night I'd tutored at the Cook County Jail.

It is now three years later, and this Christmas, my children are receiving a gift from Angel Tree Ministries.

Realizing there is now a huge gap in my story, let me explain the reason for this post.

When my ex-husband went to prison, we became one of two million households in which one parent is in prison. These households, these children, are affected daily by the fact that their parent is in prison. Many stressors come into play. Money, managing parental involvement from prison, visits to prison, uncertainty, and an overall healthy, balanced lifestyle are only some of the things the household must learn to manage and cope with. Dealing with these things during the course of the year is difficult enough, but the holidays bring into play a distinct sadness and reality. The reality is... my children do not have their father home with them to celebrate Christmas. It is as simple as that.

When my ex-husband first told me that he wanted to sign the children up for Angel Tree Ministries, I had mixed emotions. Never had I been on the receiving side of charity. I had never even considered that I might need to be on the receiving side of charity. I didn't want anyone to think I was looking for a hand out. All the negative remarks and comments I'd ever heard in my life about charity rang in my ears for a long time. But, he was persistent and adamant about doing this. He felt that this was his way of giving his children a gift from him, and only him, on Christmas morning. It is his way of reaching out to them and sharing, when the law says he can not. 

So, I finally agreed. He provided all the information, as Angle Tree Ministries work directly with prisons. In the fall, a local church contacted me and told me the children would be receiving gifts from generous donations this Christmas.

It is with deepest sincerity I say, I was tremendously glad to hear that woman tell me that. A monetary burden was lifted right off my shoulders as she talked. A little bit of stress went away with it. When we were sent some paperwork, and the children could write out their wish lists "for Daddy", another bit of stress went away. I gazed at them happily writing down their favorite toys "Daddy was gonna get them."

It was then I decided it was perfectly okay to be on the receiving side of charity. If charity was going to maintain a connection between my children and their father and if was going to make them this delighted, wasn't that the best reason for it?

'Tis the season for charity and peace on Earth. If you could so find it in your kind heart to donate to charity this holiday season, you WILL be making someones holiday that much brighter. I know it.

Here are some of my favorite charities.

http://www.helpangeltree.org/index. Angel Tree Ministries

http://big-love.org/ Big Love Little Hearts is my dear friend's non-profit which helps children all over the world born with heart defects get the surgeries they need to survive. Locally, they are collecting donations for Toys for Tots.

 http://www.sarahsinn.org/ Sarah's Inn helps women and children who are victims of domestic violence.

Lastly, I always donate to local food drives. In demand this year are personal care items and peanut butter.

Happy Holidays to all!!

When The Time is Right

Dating when you are thirty-seven with two young children, a full time job, a needy dog, a needy cat,  wrinkles that are just settling in, and a pathetic wardrobe is quite possibly one of life's greatest challenges. In fact, it could easily rank in the top five.

What the universe has failed to understand about me is that I embrace challenges these days. Bring on the dating game of the new millennium. I shall kick its ass. 

When I decided to date, I was unprepared in so many ways. First and foremost, I didn't realize I'd have to do it in "stages". Second, you can not date without courage, and quite a lot of it. When my marriage fell apart, I had about zero courage in the man department.

So, I did this in stages. I had to be comfortable typing emails to men, had to be comfortable giving someone my phone number, then talking to someone on the phone, and finally had to have real- Cowardly Lion- courage to actually go on a date. This whole "stages" thing took me like a year to complete.

In perusing profiles, there were days I'd feel really good about myself and other days I'd feel pretty crappy. Some men have done more in one day of their lives than I have in my entire life. Seriously. There have been matches that climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro... or some other ridiculously high peak on the planet. Another guy casually mentioned his "favorites" which included some fancy named bistro in Paris, strolling on the Great Wall of China (his words, strolling on the Great Wall of China), and a wine I could not spell even with spell check. I wanted to message him and tell him one of my favorite things is when my children actually get their dirty clothes into the hamper. In all sincerity, for me that is a full and complete night.

I came to realize that my life has just been very different than men like this. Instead of scaling mountains and swimming in Tahiti, I've gone to pancake breakfasts for students in the Boy Scouts and visited the zoo so many times with my children we no longer need a map to get around. I came to realize men like this aren't the best match for me. Eating crappy pancakes and making kids happy is rewarding and my life will still be complete if I never scale a mountain.

Still, it would be nice to share my life with someone, so I kept searching. And searching. And reading profiles of men who actually believe Barbie is a real person. And emailing. And searching. Then, finally, I went on a date. My first date in, oh, about twenty years.

Before the date, I made many mistakes. The biggest one being, I naively assumed everyone's profile was... accurate. Not. So. Much.

Next, I talked to the guy way too much on the phone. If you do this, you tend to develop "phone chemistry". Phone chemistry means conversation flows in a relatively easy, flirtatious manner. You make a perfect phone pair. Phone chemistry gives a completely false sense of real chemistry.

Finally, I was so incredibly, ridiculously nervous. I don't recall eating, my stomach fluttered with nerves the entire day. I obsessed over my outfit and looked to my girlfriends for reassurance. Turns out, I had not one thing to be nervous about.

From the moment the guy walked into the bar, I knew he was not my perfect match.

Here are some of the date's "lowlights"... He needed a hearing aid and bifocals. He hated the bar. He was not 5'9, or 5'8... or even 5'7. He complained about getting there and traffic and the noise level, numerous times. He complained about the price of the microbrews, ordered one, took two sips, and sent it back. He told me Hillary Clinton is an idiot. He belched, a lot. When we parted ways, he said, "Come 'ere & gimme a kiss." I lied and said I never kiss on the first date. He did not believe me.

After that disaster, I mustered the courage to go out on several more dates. However, I changed my whole approach. No more naivete. No more phone conversations. No more nervousness. And things went so much better. The dates were pleasant and fun, but without "the spark".

Then, I went on a date where as soon as the guy walked into the bar, I knew he had the potential to be my perfect match.

That first date had many highlights. He liked the bar, his eyes twinkled, he loved the microbrews, he listened when I talked and admired my viewpoints. When we parted ways, I kissed him.

We went out again. We talked and laughed and listened. We texted and talked. My intuition told me there was something special about him. He talked of wanting to spend more time with me.

And then one day, he was just gone. No more communication, no explanation, profile gone, simply not there. As if he'd never existed.

I'd be lying if I said it wasn't crushing. I'd be lying if I said I didn't lose my courage. I'd be lying if I said I didn't give up on the profiles and matches and the hope that there is a perfect match out there.

So, I stepped away from the complex world of online dating for a bit and regrouped. 

There were many more matters for me to learn about dating, and me, and men.  What I learned is my timing with men has never been right. It goes all the way back to my crush in eighth grade, who took until our senior year in high school to "like" me. He told me this as he prepared to leave for the Marines. Or during college, when the guy I'd crushed on for awhile handed me a pack of matches as I walked out the door of his restaurant one night, and six months later when I finally opened it... there was his number and a note that he wanted to take me out. My timing was off all the years I knew my husband. It was obviously off with this match. It just seems that the right man & I are never placed in time when we both are ready for each other.

I learned about the type of man I truly need, not just want. Being a strong woman, I need a man who will challenge me and keep me on my toes. I need someone who will teach me new things... who has different views... someone who is hysterically funny and genuine and who accepts all my baggage and throws it right on top of his and then continues on this journey, as he reaches for my hand. I want someone to hold my hand, literally and figuratively.

The computer keeps telling me there are two thousand plus matches for me. Certainly, one of them must be the perfect one... when the time is right.

Gaining Wisdom

Knowledge is learning something every day. Wisdom is letting go of something every day.
~ Zen Proverb

I used to think I knew everything. Ev-er-y-thing.  Just ask my mom, she'll confirm this. 

Besides being a girl who thought she knew everything, I was also a girl who could not let go of anything. You can ask my mom to confirm this, too. Once during a move, my mom became exasperated at the amount of stuff I had. She opened my hope chest and about lost it. It was crammed and heavy and she said no one was moving all that stuff.  She picked up a box of notes I'd been saving since junior high. Literally every single note anyone had ever written me was in there. She walked to the trash can and pitched the box in. When the box landed, it was as if the wind had been knocked out of me. I had anxiety about it for a little while. I know, it was a box of notes. But, it wasn't just a box of notes to me. It was friendship and memories and laughter and silly, inside jokes... and a note typed on toilet paper. (Really.) What I didn't realize was that if I let those notes go, the later wasn't going to go with them. 


As you might recall, that May day started out like any other. The late May weather was perfection, with pristine blue sky and temperatures warm enough for shorts. The school year was on the way out, and my classes worked out the last details of their research papers.  

I remember being in this place with my husband where we could laugh with each other again. We could say things back and forth that only we could understand, and I remember feeling so content because of that. 


We'd exchanged emails at the beginning of the day, planning a night out with friends. I looked back and forth between my students and the emails, and all felt right. 


Then an email came that read, "Something's come up. When are you free? I need to talk to you."

Staring at the screen, I knew, knew with every ounce of my being,  something was terribly wrong.

Hastily, I typed back, "My lunch is hours away. What is the matter? I'm scared."


Panic set in. When I panic, I must move. At first, I paced around my classroom. The students looked at me out of the corners of their eyes and sensed how uncomfortable I'd become. No one talked.


I flexed my fists over and over. Not being able to stand it any longer, I went into the library office and told one of my dearest friends I needed to use the phone. Someone went to watch my class, and with trembling hands, I dialed my husband's cell phone. 

The instant the phone connected, I knew he was in his car, driving, no longer at work. Everything baffled me.

He told me several things, none of which I could comprehend. I told him I'd be right home, and he calmly told me to stay at school. I screamed into the phone, "I can not stay here!" My heart hurt by this time from banging so fiercely inside my chest, my underarms were sweating and a sharp pain had developed between my temples.



With briskness, I left school. The only thing I remember is the look on the secretary's face as I heedlessly walked into and directly out of the office, telling her over my shoulder something was wrong with my husband and I had to leave. Now. 


To detail the rest of the afternoon for you, there would be little coherence. I remember snippets. Pieces. The pristine blue, cloudless sky. A sense of urgency and trouble. Phone calls to my mother so she could pick the children up and care for them. My husband pacing like a rapid dog in the courtyard of our home. Driving alone, then with my husband. A tremendous feeling of panic and doubt and disbelief. Simply not knowing... anything. I remember sobbing and wailing and beating my fists upon my husband's chest. 


By 5:00, the time when most families are sitting down to dinner and recapping their day, and smiling, and sighing that another day has been so well for them, the police were at my door, searching for my husband. 


The officer came in, and this is all I know of the arrest. 

He shouted for me to get the dog under control, or he would. I shrieked, "Leave Lulu alone." I sobbed, "Please, do not hurt my dog." This is what I did as he led my husband away, down the stairs, out the door. And, I let him go. I never once called out, I never once said "Stop." I just sunk to the floor and buried myself in my dog's fur. I let him go.


That was the moment in my life when I became wise. It was the right thing to do, to let him go. It was the only thing to do if I was going to save myself and my children. It was my moment of enlightenment. For so long, I thought I knew my husband, I thought I knew my life. But, I truly did not. In that moment of enlightenment, I realized I had no knowledge, but I had gained wisdom, and therefore, I would be just fine. I could sense it.


It has been over two years since I let my husband go. He may be gone, but my memories with him, our happiest times, our proudest moments, they are still there, just as I'd learned with the box of notes. 


This post is dedicated to Jodi, the girl who typed the note on toilet paper so many years ago. It still is one of life's greatest accomplishments.