In the late 1980's, I must have watched The Karate Kid hundreds of times. Back then, my ceaseless viewing could partly be blamed on the fact I was a preteen, eager to learn fashion and ways to "woo" boys from "Ali- with an i" and one delighted with the chance to ogle Ralph Machicco... again. But, it could also be blamed on how mystified with Mr. Miyagi I was.
Mr. Miyagi came into my life at a crucial point, adolescence. In adolescence, one should be exposed to life's greatest lessons hardly recognizing that exposure. It is almost as if those life lessons lay dormant until needed.
After my husband was arrested, I greatly needed Mr. Miyagi's lessons.
I'm not exactly sure how long I sat at the top of my stairs after the police officer closed our door. That time was spent in utter disbelief. At some point, I remembered one of Mr. Miyagi's lessons.
"Breathe in, breathe out. And no scare fish."
With several deep cleansing breaths, I rose and went to tell our family and friends what had just happened. I had to chose my words to convey the events that had just played out very carefully because this was certainly a very scary situation.
No one I'd ever known had been arrested, taken from their home... led away with absolutely nothing said, other than, "You need to come with us." When I finally managed to start making phone calls, each voice on the other end of the line quaked and asked for everything to be repeated, twice.
My husband was an "All-American" type of guy. He'd never met a person who did not like him. He was handsome and charismatic and athletic. He had a smile that lit up a room. He was a husband, father, son, brother, teacher, coach, friend, and fraternity brother. To all those that knew him, he was the guy they liked to be around, the one that made them laugh, and the one who'd never do anything wrong.
His arrest stunned every single person told. Everyone was frightened, no matter what words I used, but my calmness and sensibility, thanks in part to much "breathe in, breathe out", evoked the same in others. I continued to make phone calls and proceeded to read everything I could on the Internet about being arrested.
By dark, my sister was with me. Soon, my parents would arrive with my children. They had no idea they were coming home to a home without Daddy. I discussed what to tell my four- year-old daughter and my very wise sister stated, "Well, you have two choices. You can lie or you can tell her the truth." Knowing lying had brought this entire mess upon us, I opted for the truth. Finding the right words to explain a father's arrest to a four-year-old is nearly impossible. Smiling ever-so-slightly, I remembered Mr. Miyagi.
When, Daniel asked him, "Hey, where did all these cars come from?" He replied, "Detroit."
Keep it simple.
She wasn't in the door long before she started asking where Daddy was. Sitting on the floor with her, I explained that Daddy had done something very bad, that adults aren't supposed to do. I explained he was going to have to live with the police for awhile. I kept it as simple as I could.
As far as tears and heartache, it didn't matter. As far as how these carefully chosen, simple words would shape our future, it did matter.
Numerous people have asked me, "How did you do that? How did you tell everyone, how did you get the words out?"
I can only answer as Mr. Miyagi did when he karate chopped beer bottles off his truck, "Don't know, first time." Sometimes, what you need to do, you just do.
Hours went by, and I still knew very little about what he was to be charged with. I knew not the enormity of his crime. Late at night, his phone call finally came and out of this wonderful man's mouth, came the severity of what he'd done. I listened to him, but heard The Karate Kid. At that point, my husband became two people to me. I heard Sense Kreese's words:
"Mercy is for the weak... An enemy deserves no mercy."
I wanted to slam the phone down. I wanted to scream and wail and punch walls. I wanted to lock my doors and never let him back in the house. I wanted him to sit in a cell and rot. I wanted to hate him.
But, I couldn't and I didn't. And, I won't.
It is also said in The Karate Kid, "You trust the quality of what you know, not the quantity." I knew my husband as a good man. I knew all his most wonderful qualities and they far outweighed this one terrible thing he'd done. And, I didn't really want an enemy. Enemies bring too much negativity into life. There was too much negativity in our lives. I could not allow it.
Late that night, not long after I'd finally fallen asleep, I awoke in a panic. I roused my sleeping parents and pleaded with my Dad to bring me to the police station. Begrudgingly, he did. I brought my husband clean clothes and a picture of our children.
Are you confused?
Mr. Miyagi said this:
"Better learn balance. Balance is key. Balance good, karate good. Everything good. Balance bad, better pack up, go home."
For the rest of my life, I was going to need to learn to balance the two people my husband had become. I was going to have to balance my life around this terrible thing that had happened. What I envisioned as we drove to the police station was the man I'd known, alone and terrified. In my mind, he still had duties and obligations to fulfill to myself and, most importantly, to his children. The clothes and picture, I wanted them to give him strength in order to do that.
That trip to the police station at one o'clock in the morning was the only time I put myself in the same place as his crime.
After that, we had a long, long road ahead of us. Trust me, there have been numerous times between now and then I have wanted nothing more than to "Sweep the leg". It is a gruelling journey, but one that has sincerely taught me Mr. Miyagi's most important lesson of all:
"First learn stand. Then learn fly. Nature rule, Daniel-san, not mine."
This post is dedicated to my mother. She is my Mr. Miyagi.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Thursday, February 2, 2012
An Assignment
I despise being assigned homework. The irony that drips from that statement is too much, I know... a teacher who hates doing homework, but it is true. So when I was assigned homework by my daughter's teacher, in all honesty, I was less than thrilled. In perfect six year old pitch, she nagged me about it all week. And, of course, I waited until the last minute to complete it.
My daughter was the "Can Do Kid" of the week. She had many things to do while being showcased for the entire week. My assignment was to write something about my daughter that the teacher could read to the class. Below is my assignment. Feel free to give me a grade.
Dear First Graders, February 2, 2012
In our house, we love big words. We strive to learn new words. We try very hard to learn new words. We play word games, and we challenge ourselves to use big words in our conversations. This letter will teach you a few big words as it teaches you about my favorite daughter, Payton.
Payton is very logical. One of my favorite stories to tell about her shows just how reasonable she is. One day, I told her that Reid, her brother, was my favorite son and she was my favorite daughter. She thought for a moment and said, “No, Mama, I’m your favorite moon.” She thought I’d meant sun, not son. She used the facts she knew about the sky and concluded if Reid was my favorite sun, she must be my favorite moon. Now, she knows about homophones, or words that sound the same, but are spelled differently.
Payton is very wise. Recently, I was about to start a new yoga class. I was nervous about trying something new. Payton looked at me and sighed and said, “Oh, Mama, just go and meet new friends. That’s what us kids have to do!” She is so smart! So, that is just what I did!
Payton is extremely conscientious. She will always do the right thing, and she knows the right thing to do in most situations. Once we drove past a once wooded area that had been torn down and cleared away so new stores could be built there. Payton declared, “Mama, we are just going to have to call Barack Obama so he can do something about it and get all the animals’ homes back!”
Payton is very sentimental. Just before Christmas, Payton came up to me one night, stuck a bow on my shirt and announced, “Mama, you are my present this year!” She is so loving and thoughtful and makes sure to let all the people in her life know how much she cares for them.
Payton is the light that shines in my heart. Without her, my life would be very sullen. It would be dark and sad. I adore my favorite daughter Payton and am elated that I could share these stories with you. It makes all mothers happy to talk about their children, just as it makes your mothers happy to talk about you.
I hope you enjoyed the stories and I sincerely hope you learned a few new, big words!
Happy Learning to you!
Fondly,
Sherri Hope
My daughter was the "Can Do Kid" of the week. She had many things to do while being showcased for the entire week. My assignment was to write something about my daughter that the teacher could read to the class. Below is my assignment. Feel free to give me a grade.
Dear First Graders, February 2, 2012
In our house, we love big words. We strive to learn new words. We try very hard to learn new words. We play word games, and we challenge ourselves to use big words in our conversations. This letter will teach you a few big words as it teaches you about my favorite daughter, Payton.
Payton is very logical. One of my favorite stories to tell about her shows just how reasonable she is. One day, I told her that Reid, her brother, was my favorite son and she was my favorite daughter. She thought for a moment and said, “No, Mama, I’m your favorite moon.” She thought I’d meant sun, not son. She used the facts she knew about the sky and concluded if Reid was my favorite sun, she must be my favorite moon. Now, she knows about homophones, or words that sound the same, but are spelled differently.
Payton is very wise. Recently, I was about to start a new yoga class. I was nervous about trying something new. Payton looked at me and sighed and said, “Oh, Mama, just go and meet new friends. That’s what us kids have to do!” She is so smart! So, that is just what I did!
Payton is extremely conscientious. She will always do the right thing, and she knows the right thing to do in most situations. Once we drove past a once wooded area that had been torn down and cleared away so new stores could be built there. Payton declared, “Mama, we are just going to have to call Barack Obama so he can do something about it and get all the animals’ homes back!”
Payton is very sentimental. Just before Christmas, Payton came up to me one night, stuck a bow on my shirt and announced, “Mama, you are my present this year!” She is so loving and thoughtful and makes sure to let all the people in her life know how much she cares for them.
Payton is the light that shines in my heart. Without her, my life would be very sullen. It would be dark and sad. I adore my favorite daughter Payton and am elated that I could share these stories with you. It makes all mothers happy to talk about their children, just as it makes your mothers happy to talk about you.
I hope you enjoyed the stories and I sincerely hope you learned a few new, big words!
Happy Learning to you!
Fondly,
Sherri Hope
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
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!!
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!!
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Gaining Wisdom
Knowledge is learning something every day. Wisdom is letting go of something every day.
~ Zen Proverb
~ 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.
Monday, October 10, 2011
One Word, So Many Meanings
The other night at the end of a date (Disclaimer: This is not a post about my adventures in dating. Sorry to disappoint. Those will come later.), my date asked me if I liked being single. A bit taken aback by his question (and very slightly tipsy), I briefly paused and replied with confidence, "Yes, I like it." He scrunched up his face and told me he hated it. I never got the chance to explain my answer because the night ended shortly thereafter.
So, here is my explanation.
It is not a wonder the English language is so difficult to learn when one considers the many, many words it contains with multiple meanings. Pet, picture, racket, judge, produce, coast, settle... the list could go on.
Then, throw in the whole concept of connotation, and English learners can be at a complete loss. Correction, even life-long English speakers can be at a loss.
The word from that multiple meaning list and multiple connotations list that shapes my life is settle... settled, settling... any form of it.
What I should have said to my date was, "I don't mind being single because I feel settled. My life has finally settled down to the point where I can actually enjoy it. And finally, I am not settling for just any guy... therefore being single isn't half bad." He probably still would have walked out the door, but that's okay, he needn't settle either.
When I was much younger, I wanted nothing more than to settle down and raise a family. My Barbies always got married and had babies.They cooked and cleaned and ended each play session sitting on rocking chairs on a make-shift front porch. To me, this settle... good connotation. It was comforting. To someone terrified of commitment and responsibility...bad connotation.
On my wedding day, I did not feel as if I'd settled for just some guy. I married the man it took a very long time to get to the alter. He was one unsure of settling down. At times, I was patient with his uncertainty, and others, I became quite belligerent about how absurd I truly thought it was. When we'd finally made it to our wedding day, I wonder if he felt unsettled. He gave no indication of that, but when I look back at wedding pictures, there is one candid shot of him with a very unsettled expression on his face. Today, that photo is a foreshadowing of many unsettling things to come in our lives. I wish I could have seen it much sooner, but I was too busy settling into our new life as a married couple.
For many years, life was pleasant and... settled. And then one day, it just wasn't. It started that day in the Menards parking lot and became completely unsettled the day I learned about his affair. After that day, I vowed to settle for nothing but the best... from him, from me, from us. But, that wasn't what happened.
What comes next may be unsettling for you, the reader. It was catastrophic for us.
On that fateful May day, my husband was arrested. And instantly, nothing was settled anymore, everything was beyond unsettled, and my heart felt as if it would never settle its violent hammering rampage again.
It has been two and a half years since that day, and finally, my heart has slowed. For those two long years, I lived in an unsettled manner. I never knew what each moment would bring. I learned what "you never truly know what a person" means. I learned what "hold your head high" means. I learned what "you never truly know how strong you until being strong is all you can be" means. I learned about the criminal process and the justice system and the prison system in ways I never wanted to, but had to. I learned how faithful my family and best friends are. I discovered how very important it is to be settled in mind, body and spirit. And, I learned that I could become settled again.
How I got from there to here is for another post. This post is for all those out there working on being settled. It is possible.
So, here is my explanation.
It is not a wonder the English language is so difficult to learn when one considers the many, many words it contains with multiple meanings. Pet, picture, racket, judge, produce, coast, settle... the list could go on.
Then, throw in the whole concept of connotation, and English learners can be at a complete loss. Correction, even life-long English speakers can be at a loss.
The word from that multiple meaning list and multiple connotations list that shapes my life is settle... settled, settling... any form of it.
What I should have said to my date was, "I don't mind being single because I feel settled. My life has finally settled down to the point where I can actually enjoy it. And finally, I am not settling for just any guy... therefore being single isn't half bad." He probably still would have walked out the door, but that's okay, he needn't settle either.
When I was much younger, I wanted nothing more than to settle down and raise a family. My Barbies always got married and had babies.They cooked and cleaned and ended each play session sitting on rocking chairs on a make-shift front porch. To me, this settle... good connotation. It was comforting. To someone terrified of commitment and responsibility...bad connotation.
On my wedding day, I did not feel as if I'd settled for just some guy. I married the man it took a very long time to get to the alter. He was one unsure of settling down. At times, I was patient with his uncertainty, and others, I became quite belligerent about how absurd I truly thought it was. When we'd finally made it to our wedding day, I wonder if he felt unsettled. He gave no indication of that, but when I look back at wedding pictures, there is one candid shot of him with a very unsettled expression on his face. Today, that photo is a foreshadowing of many unsettling things to come in our lives. I wish I could have seen it much sooner, but I was too busy settling into our new life as a married couple.
For many years, life was pleasant and... settled. And then one day, it just wasn't. It started that day in the Menards parking lot and became completely unsettled the day I learned about his affair. After that day, I vowed to settle for nothing but the best... from him, from me, from us. But, that wasn't what happened.
What comes next may be unsettling for you, the reader. It was catastrophic for us.
On that fateful May day, my husband was arrested. And instantly, nothing was settled anymore, everything was beyond unsettled, and my heart felt as if it would never settle its violent hammering rampage again.
It has been two and a half years since that day, and finally, my heart has slowed. For those two long years, I lived in an unsettled manner. I never knew what each moment would bring. I learned what "you never truly know what a person" means. I learned what "hold your head high" means. I learned what "you never truly know how strong you until being strong is all you can be" means. I learned about the criminal process and the justice system and the prison system in ways I never wanted to, but had to. I learned how faithful my family and best friends are. I discovered how very important it is to be settled in mind, body and spirit. And, I learned that I could become settled again.
How I got from there to here is for another post. This post is for all those out there working on being settled. It is possible.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
A Little Zen
The other day we ventured out to our old neighborhood. We visited with our favorite neighbor, who spoiled us with ice cream and cookies, and then made our way over to the local Trader Joe's.
While maneuvering down the frozen food aisle, a woman's voice called out, "Sherri!" I glanced around and stared straight at a very familiar blonde. My mind raced to recall who she was. She exclaimed, "Oh! You probably don't remember me..." But, I did. I walked over and opened my arms to hug her. I remembered the last time I'd hugged her. She gives the warmest, tightest hugs. It was at her baby daughter's funeral.
We stood in the aisle for a long while, recapping the past several years. Now, I could recall every detail of this woman's life, but I STILL can not recall her name. (That is truly another post... the inability to remember details.) Anyway, as we stood there, I remembered how much I'd admired her strength during her life tragedy. I remembered praying for her and her family, and watching her be such a good mama to her older daughter. She moved through life with dignity, and she still does.
We said our goodbyes, and I hurried through Trader Joe's to select the few items we needed. By the end of the excursion, I was anxious about getting to our next spot on time. My children were, well, being children, and happily looking at the Pet Wall and putting away their tiny shopping carts.
We made our way to the parking lot and the silliness from the children increased. It was hot. We were running late (per usual). I was annoyed. The children scrambled into their seats, and I tried to regroup, really, I did. They continued to laugh while they fumbled with their straps to click in. I snapped, "Hurry up and put your belts on." They whined about something, something silly and insignificant... at least to me.
Finally, my annoyance bubbled over, and I hollered, "Who friggin' cares, just click in already!"
I could feel the eyes on me, even before I finished the last syllable. Slowly, I turned to my left, and there she was, that old acquaintance, who'd I'd admired so much, but couldn't recall her name. She was loading her things into the back of her SUV, mid-load, standing like a stone, staring at me.
Like a dog with its tail between its legs, I jammed the car into reverse, and pulled out of the parking lot, completely exasperated with my true colors.
Since becoming an only parent... yes, only parent, as my ex is not available... I have realized many things about children and parenting. Children can suck the life right out of you. And, please, understand, I mean this in the best possible way. I adore my children, can not imagine life without them, but some days, my, oh my, they are draining. They make me tired and frustrated. So, I yell. My neighbors are probably blogging about it.
But, something that afternoon, in the Trader Joe's parking lot, shook me up. It shamed me. It weighed heavily on my mind, and I knew I needed to do something to alleviate some of the pressure, and frustration.
The next day, I received my Parents magazine in the mail. Casually flipping through the slick pages, I discovered an article entitled "Lessons From a Zen Mommy". Who couldn't use a little Zen? Some of us could use a lot.
The article was so inspiring to me, and really helped set me straight. After reading, I went straight to my computer and typed out the lessons. They are now taped to my refrigerator door. Let me share them now...
Do what you’re doing while you’re doing it.
Leave no trace.
Take just the right amount.
Practice patience.
Develop rituals.
Count your blessings.
Remember to breathe.
(Saltman 74-79)
Sometimes, we aren't ready for the lessons that life is going to give us. Sometimes, we are. I was perfectly ready for these. The way they've refocused me and taught me in just the short time they've been a part of me is remarkable.
The parking lot was mortifying at best, but you know, those worst parent moments can set you on a path for the best parent moments.
This post is dedicated to the woman whose name I still can't recall. You are a mommy hero.
Saltman, Bethany. "Lessons From a Zen Mommy." Parents. August 2011: 74-79. Print.
While maneuvering down the frozen food aisle, a woman's voice called out, "Sherri!" I glanced around and stared straight at a very familiar blonde. My mind raced to recall who she was. She exclaimed, "Oh! You probably don't remember me..." But, I did. I walked over and opened my arms to hug her. I remembered the last time I'd hugged her. She gives the warmest, tightest hugs. It was at her baby daughter's funeral.
We stood in the aisle for a long while, recapping the past several years. Now, I could recall every detail of this woman's life, but I STILL can not recall her name. (That is truly another post... the inability to remember details.) Anyway, as we stood there, I remembered how much I'd admired her strength during her life tragedy. I remembered praying for her and her family, and watching her be such a good mama to her older daughter. She moved through life with dignity, and she still does.
We said our goodbyes, and I hurried through Trader Joe's to select the few items we needed. By the end of the excursion, I was anxious about getting to our next spot on time. My children were, well, being children, and happily looking at the Pet Wall and putting away their tiny shopping carts.
We made our way to the parking lot and the silliness from the children increased. It was hot. We were running late (per usual). I was annoyed. The children scrambled into their seats, and I tried to regroup, really, I did. They continued to laugh while they fumbled with their straps to click in. I snapped, "Hurry up and put your belts on." They whined about something, something silly and insignificant... at least to me.
Finally, my annoyance bubbled over, and I hollered, "Who friggin' cares, just click in already!"
I could feel the eyes on me, even before I finished the last syllable. Slowly, I turned to my left, and there she was, that old acquaintance, who'd I'd admired so much, but couldn't recall her name. She was loading her things into the back of her SUV, mid-load, standing like a stone, staring at me.
Like a dog with its tail between its legs, I jammed the car into reverse, and pulled out of the parking lot, completely exasperated with my true colors.
Since becoming an only parent... yes, only parent, as my ex is not available... I have realized many things about children and parenting. Children can suck the life right out of you. And, please, understand, I mean this in the best possible way. I adore my children, can not imagine life without them, but some days, my, oh my, they are draining. They make me tired and frustrated. So, I yell. My neighbors are probably blogging about it.
But, something that afternoon, in the Trader Joe's parking lot, shook me up. It shamed me. It weighed heavily on my mind, and I knew I needed to do something to alleviate some of the pressure, and frustration.
The next day, I received my Parents magazine in the mail. Casually flipping through the slick pages, I discovered an article entitled "Lessons From a Zen Mommy". Who couldn't use a little Zen? Some of us could use a lot.
The article was so inspiring to me, and really helped set me straight. After reading, I went straight to my computer and typed out the lessons. They are now taped to my refrigerator door. Let me share them now...
Do what you’re doing while you’re doing it.
Leave no trace.
Take just the right amount.
Practice patience.
Develop rituals.
Count your blessings.
Remember to breathe.
(Saltman 74-79)
Sometimes, we aren't ready for the lessons that life is going to give us. Sometimes, we are. I was perfectly ready for these. The way they've refocused me and taught me in just the short time they've been a part of me is remarkable.
The parking lot was mortifying at best, but you know, those worst parent moments can set you on a path for the best parent moments.
This post is dedicated to the woman whose name I still can't recall. You are a mommy hero.
Saltman, Bethany. "Lessons From a Zen Mommy." Parents. August 2011: 74-79. Print.
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