Healing, In no particular order

BFF, BBF, BFBG, BFOTA

Whether we were rocked to death or scared to death, our circle of Friends was recently tested. First, our hearts paused while we prayed and hoped through a worrisome medical situation involving a Friend, and entire family, really, that we love dearly. Then, we somehow pulled together enough courage to withstand the musical explosion that was REO Speedwagon and Skyblast. And if you doubt the latter, let me tell you, never doubt a man who has false teeth, platinum hair and can still play the gong.

All joking aside, I've been so proud of my friends. Even though we don't live close to each other or have the ability to hang out all the time, we're there when it counts. Our history of pressing up has clearly become legacy, and we all belong on The List of People Who Don't Eff Around. The social networking age has only worked to our advantage, as we are not the kind of friends who are out of sight, out of mind.

I know with every ounce of faith in my heart (though it just might be heartburn these days), that the sickness will heal, and we will all be sharing photos of our healthy families at the annual PPC (as in Christmas) Potluck.

Deals

You know it's going to be a tough meeting when you walk in a room and someone says, "It took a lot of courage for you to be here today."

I had two such meetings so far this week. And in each of those meetings, I had to make decisions--some of which have already been negatively criticized. But the criticisms say more about those doing the criticizing than it says about me. The results of my decisions--and whether or not they were the best ones--won't be revealed for years to come. Even if they're not the best ones, they already feel like the right ones. I only made these decisions after a lot of prayer, a lot of thinking and a lot of planning. So it wasn't on a whim.

Of course it involved money--which is really the main thing that inspires people to care about someone else's decisions. And I pretty much gave up a lot of it in order to help a larger group of people who otherwise wouldn't likely be able to afford a resource that could help raise healthy, happy children and families. At the same time, I'll have enough, when it's said and done, to pay my debts and help those who have helped me.

I was going to describe how another meeting involved me fighting for social justice in education, but really, both meetings involved me fighting for social justice in education.

It kind of feels like walking the walk, a bit. Look, I'm never going to be a politician--I've had too much of a past for that. But there's still a lot I can do for what I believe in.

Women & Men

I received some sad phone calls this week from a girl struggling with a broken heart. And broken hearts are always harder to put back together when the person suffering doesn't have a strong support system--especially family. The parent-child relationship in her life has always been reversed, and her ex-boyfriend was her life.

But when people build their lives around one person, they tend to hold onto that one person too tightly. It can bring out the worst in a relationship. And even when the relationship goes bad, it can be hard to let go of.

I pray for her every day, hoping her pain will be replaced with joy.

My advice in such a situation is always the same: You have to find a way to move on.

I know it's easier said than done. But the longer you hang onto the wrong person is less time you have with the right one.

And never, NEVER, be someone else's doormat or fool. It's like that buying of the cow when you can get the milk for free thing. If a guy still sleeps with you after he dumps you, it does not mean he loves you. It just means you keep giving him sex. If the sex stops, so will the majority of your communication.

My mother is quick to remind women that we don't need to "buy the cow" either: "Why buy the whole pig when all you want is some sausage."

She probably saw it on a bumper sticker or something. But sometimes bumper stickers give the best advice.

Prayer

I've had so much to pray about in the last week that I actually went to the sanctuary to do it. I'm usually quite content to do it at home or in the car, but I think I just wanted the perfect calm of an empty church.

I cried.

I stared at swaying candlelight.

I prayed.

I foolishly negotiated.

I felt peaceful.

And churches are just so beautiful. Some of the architecture is just majestic. Stained-glass windows and pillars. Pews and velvet carpeting. Light that always seems to fall in the right place.

Even though I didn't feel any closer to God there during prayer than I do at home during prayer, or any differently on a Tuesday night than a Sunday morning, it just felt nice to be there.

I think that's what we should always aim for, you know, that we feel nice to be somewhere. That a place, and the people, feel nice. And if it doesn't feel like that, then maybe we're in the wrong place.

Empty Nesting While My Nest is Growing

Is it possible to have empty nest syndrome when your child is only going to preschool? And for the second time?

Seriously. Cienna is only turning 5 this fall, but I know in like two days she will be 15. Time always goes faster once kids go to school, and this preschool year more closely resembles Kindegarten.

I'm not really freaking out. I'm merely a melodramatic sap who has to turn everything into a scrapbook page.

But can you believe she's going to be 5?

When I look back on the last 5 years with her, it all feels like 5 fast years but a lot of long days. Make any sense?

I'm making a special book for her 5th birthday, including photos and stories of her life to that point.

I'll probably cry the whole time.

Of course I will.

A Swift Kick

When I was pregnant with Cienna, I had my miracle moment--the moment when I realized I was really growing an incredible little life inside me that I already loved and would be a mom to--while I was falling asleep on BG's couch. It was the evening after my first prenatal appointment that confirmed I was pregnant, and BG picked me up so I could stay at her house. The nurses had given me a small box of reading material that covered an infant's life from birth through age one. BG had gone to bed, and I read it all, cover to cover. When I finally closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the challenge of becoming a single mother, I placed my hands on my still-unchanged belly and knew that I wasn't going to sleep alone. And in that beautiful, lifechanging moment I knew I was somebody's mom.

With Ty Guy, I had the moment during my first sonogram with him. He was moving his little hands all around, covering his eyes, as if to play peek-a-boo. I looked at the monitor and thought, "That's my little boy." My eyes filled with tears, and Larry's just might have too, and I couldn't wait to hold those little hands.

This time, it was when I felt the first, tiny kick. I was in Giant Eagle, stopped in the middle of the aisle, and started crying next to the polenta. I put my hand on my clearly-changed belly and said, "Hello, little angel." Now, luckily, our Giant Eagle is very suburban, and the customers there were quite sympathetic as opposed to thinking I was crazy. It's a moment I won't forget, and I can't wait to share it with my baby.

What amazes me most, though, is that even though this is my third baby, it doesn't feel any less miraculous. It's so incredible how love grows and multiplies.