rambling on a rural road

i am writing about how our lives changed this year and what that means for us in a different place.  please join me at:  https://ramblingonaruralroad.wordpress.com.

dream big

i face down today and know more than ever that i need to sit at this computer and write out my words in order to survive.  i must get back to the writing of my old days.  and in order to do this i have to clear out the cobwebs in my storied brain.  so i'm just going to keep going, ok?  

when i made the decision to go and i closed that door in my life, kindly.  all sorts of new opportunities began to present themselves.  for many years i've dreamed of going on an around the world trip with the kids.  i imagined the trip to take place at a prime age for my older son and a pretty good age for the younger.  i wanted a time when they would both remember the trip, but also before the angst of middle school set in.  

i just quit my J.O.B., yo.  and i had some thinking to do about the coming months.  and of course where i was way back then (in jan-april) i was still attempting to implement the perfect life and the perfect plan and land the perfect next job and all the while sitting in a giant mess of sadness and imperfection.  on a whim i emailed the principal at school and asked what it would look like if we traveled for a few months and didn't come to school.  i told her my dream.  

her response:  DREAM BIG. 

and then our lives really turned upside down. 

open door policy

i made a decision to go and i chose to leave some things behind, including my job.  that's scary on so many levels.  i was truly afraid.  i worried about losing friendships, income, status, MY HOUSE.  fear and scarcity tag teaming off each other messed with my mind.  i questioned myself daily, "who am i to think i deserve more than this?"  and at the same time, "what kind of person could walk away from a good thing?"  all i knew was that if i wanted to move beyond being stuck.  at a desk.  dreaming about the life i wanted.  i had to change my thinking.  

my mind had been trained a certain way.  obviously.  in order to change my circumstances i also had to change how and what i thought about them.  doing one thing well for many years, staying, was ok (fear).  i mastered things i never thought possible (routine).  i learned all i could so that i could hold on to what i had (scarcity).  i achieved a type of success (compromise).  whatever success it was, it never seemed to matter in the ways i hoped.  and i started to fail in other ways that seemed significant and inevitably soul crushing.  a soul can only take so much, i'm told.

finally i took the training wheels off my mind.  and i imagined all the worst case scenarios, decided they were not likely, and started to plan for the best case scenarios.  life is not all or nothing.  that's the old thinking.  the more rigid and finite our minds, the less opportunity allowed.  the more faith, risk, and dreams we practice the better our chances are for happiness.  no more was i willing to live a life based on fear, routine, scarcity and compromise.  it was a "fixed mindset" kind of life and i am all about growing. (yes, i read Mindset).

i didn't take a leap of faith.  there was no safety net.  i really planned and worked out what needed to happen.  it was hard learning a new way of thinking.  i'm still learning.  i will always be learning.  none of this happened overnight.  it is a challenging process full of ups and downs.  but it's funny.  i can't imagine having the courage to move on without once being stuck.  i will never go back, those doors are closed.  i can dream about the future and actively pursue it.  opening doors all the way.

decision

let's just say i outgrew my job.  i put in some good try hard for twenty two years.  and still i felt like a quitter.  but going is growing.  let's also say that it was complicated because i worked for a family.  and family is family even if they are not your blood.  people you go to war with and for every day earn a place in your heart.  going to war feels scary and tiring.  but you care about the people so you stay and fight.  but you can love people even when you outgrow your job.  so you go.

the unbalancing

until very recently i believed that other people could live their dreams and that other people had choices i was not able to make.  i gave all my power away.  and it was sad to be powerless and choiceless.  it felt like being stuck.  what little energy i kept for myself i used up trying hard at all the things.  there is never enough trying hard.  it's exhausting and also sad.  it was time to make my own choices.  so i did.  

i want to tell you all about how i quit my job after twenty two years, and my husband got a job for the first time in ten years in another state, and that i became a stay at home mom (for however briefly) and how we made a plan to take our kids out of school so we could travel until january.  but i haven't found all the words, yet.  for now, just look at this costume i saw at l'opera garnier in paris, you guys. try making choices, too.  it feels great.  the world is waiting for you to show up.

love a neighbor

the dog barks and growls and announces a visitor.  the boys come hollering into the living room.  "he's here.  he's here.  our neighbor is here."  at seven thirty in the pm i step out the door to meet him in the dusky cool.  {in my pajamas.  because, face it.  at least for this week i'm the kind of girl who goes to work and wears pants with buttons by day, and the girl who wears only elastic from five in the pm on.  it is literally the first thing i do when i get home.  hi, how was your day, where are my pajamas?}  he's always wobbly as a newborn kitten.  today was no different.  he walks when he can't drive.  and.  sometimes.  as horrifying as it may seem, driving is the only thing that keeps him going.   his walking is equal parts perilous.  he needed a break from hotel lonely he told me.  and he missed his wife.  i watched his eyes as he described their wedding day.  he got lost in her beauty long gone.  those are the important memories, i thought.  his other memories weren't coming to mind as readily as they did only a few months ago.  he took a breather in my kitchen.  all ninety one years of tired, heaped up there.  he is always welcome at my table. sometimes he takes me up on the offer.  joining a link up about how we love our neighbors here.

the life cycle of a girl

the great horned owl hooting in the night sky keeps me company while i burn out my morning pages by star light.  i'm working around some great magic that's been locked away in the responsible part of myself.  i know you know the responsible part, friend.  it's who you learned to be when you became the rule following, people pleaser - as did I.  it's the little girl who took on the weight of the world and called herself out for every stupid, embarrassing, little mistake she made.  the girl who carried glue and tape in her pocket prepared for each worst case scenario.  oh, that girl.  if i could, i would hold her tight and make her know she was not alone.  instead i write her out of the shadows and into the spotlight on the pages of my notebook.

the try hard, fix it, do more, be more life can only take us so far.  eventually the little girl has to grow up and face her disappointment and joys as an adult.  and it is just way easier to pretend to be grown up than to actually accomplish the task.  to leave the sadness and pain out of the story would dull the happiness and joy. but there's been so much sadness lately, so let me tell you about the joy.  the gratitude for the life i have.  i helped to raise a girl not my own.  she was my responsibility, and i her servant.  many days i wondered if i was in over my head.  i was not clear on how to be of use to her.  twenty some years later, she asks me to help her give back.  today she starts her life's work with a servant's heart.  with compassion for others and selfless motives.

letting a girl go into the world is bittersweet.  for our own selfish reasons we hold on to her tightly.  watching her grow up can be painful.  we've been a part of the story once before and it's a page turner, nonetheless.  our hearts ache for her; our hearts ache for the little girl inside ourselves.  letting her know that no matter what.  she is not alone.  in the joy.  in the disappointment.  that's the real good part.  we are all in this together.  growing and going and giving back.

if you give a friend a cookie....

she will take pictures and blog about it.  then she will want more.  thanks, b.

for the love of the internet

shannan speaks to my heart.  for all of the ways a person could get lost in the world wide web.  for all of the bigness blogging has become.  for all of the ways a person could feel small on the internet.  she helps me feel connected.  she helps me feel heard.  she brings tears to my eyes and joy in my heart.  she is a champion, an inspirer, and a light in dark places.  thank you, always, for your faithful encouragement and beautiful words.  {flower patch farmgirl}

she also has the most amazing community of encouraging blogging friends.  not only is she a personal cheerleader to the little guy {me}, but she also links to a world of outside encouragement delivered straight to your laptop.  i was reading this article "during my lunch hour" at work, and it was much needed inspiration.  so glad i read about her.  write on writer.  {jen hatmaker}

when shannan says kind things about you, or just links to your blog, a whole new world of readers land at your doorstep.  a new friend has me thinking about all of the things.  her words are so relevant to my heart right now.  i love her idea of neighbors feeding neighbors.  {lori harris}

totally unrelated, but monumental nonetheless, this was the best advice i've read since, well, ever.  we all struggle with parenting the littles at times.  "come at me bro" parenting is my new favorite.  {rage against the mini-van}

have a happy weekend.  xoxo

keep

my children prefer to keep their stories private.  thank goodness.  i want to tell all the things about them, but i respect their limits.  they are able to advocate for themselves.  it is a good lesson for me in what to give to others and what to keep for myself.  i am striving for authenticity and integrity in my writing and in my life.  i want to tell my stories, and at the same time keep my sensitivity and vulnerability close to my heart.  stories need an audience.  i yearn to keep quiet, but here in this space i lovingly give my words away because stories cannot be kept.

join five minute friday here.

one of the guys

we live in the country.  we have no pizza delivery.  well, we do.  but it costs a lot.  more than the tank of gas it would cost me to just drive to the nearest town and pick something up.  lucky me, you guys. i loaded up two boy children and ventured out to the closest pizza place for sleepover staples {including a two liter of sierra mist - it was super special}.  yada, yada, yada.  boy speak.  bohemian rhapsody TURNED UP.  burping.  farting.  i was totally tuned out and trying not to lose my mind, when the conversation turned to girls.  if you were ever a grade school girl who wondered what boys talked about when you weren't around, rest assured.  it was lovely and charming and respectful.  i held my breath and listened as if i were a fly on the wall.  i was giddy that i was witness.  

unlocked

my mind is still percolating over the crooked path.  i like to run right past sad.  i prefer to characterize myself as happy.  like, all the time.  i will tell you i'm fine.  that i have all the things handled.  and i will not ask for your help.  can you literally feel the collective eye roll from my people?  and did the sigh out of their ever loving mouths blow past you like a cool nor'easter?  i'm unlearning all the years of thinking that doing more, and being more is the answer to happiness.  fake it til you make it is my archenemy.  i am currently not full up of others - i'm letting them handle their own things.  and i am building my confidence up for real life.  i am not rushed.  not numbed.  just holed up and still in all the discomfort of new ways.  i'm doing my best to be quiet when all these millions of thoughts and feelings are demanding attention.

bucket friend update:  i do over-think all the things.  but in these days of driving by and wondering about the toothy guy on the corner, my hope is that he feels cared for.  and i think he does, you guys.  because i see people reaching out to him.  and, yesterday, he had two oranges an apple and six cans of soup.  so i know i'm not the only one who sees him.  i hand him bread to satisfy my own perception of his need and in return i get to hear his voice. someday i might know his name.  his real need.  someday i might hold a bit of his story.  for now we have gotten to the weather.  and that is leaps and bounds beyond the day we finally made eye contact.  this is my very favorite kind of thing.

a piggy pony's lament

i have set out on my own crooked path as of late, working hard to set everyone else's paths straight.  how tedious a job it is to set paths straight.  our own or others.  it is a long, try hard, never quite finished job.  of course,  i find my time is useful in helping others.  it makes it easy for me to ignore where i am.  on a crooked path.  rinse.  repeat.

try as i might to appear happy and grounded and thoughtful and kind.  i flat out struggle.  i am broken with a bunch of sadness piled on.  i am weak.  and often because i can't stand to suffer, i ignore my sadness and take care of others.  that is the truth, ruth.  but i'm learning {very slowly} to sit in my mess and just be.  i am giving myself grace to grieve in the long, slow, way that i do.  without taking responsibility for the sadness of others.  without asking permission to feel the way i do.  this is uncharted territory for me, and it is really uncomfortable.  i know it runs deep because my girlfriends said so.  i can picture them with their hands at the ready, "yes we know you are {air quotes} handling all of the things."  i scoffed at them.  of course i am.  it's what i {air quotes} do.  

it all catches up in the end.  you can try to breeze by grief.  you can run along a seemingly straight path until your sides hurt and your breath is heavy, but eventually you get to a switchback.  no amount of saving others will save you from yourself.  no crooked path set straight will erase the struggle it took to get there.

this post brought to you by the piggiest of ponies in all of ireland.  should you meet up with this rogue brute somewhere on the dingle peninsula.  give it some grass and back away.  get back in your car and drive on the left side of the road.  to another place.  and for the love of all things.  do not pay to give it pellets.

winter

in colorado, there is no shortage of snowy mountain trails to wander.  snowshoes are my preferred method of exploration.  a favorite is to go out into the deep powder of a wide open meadow and fall backwards into the snow.  staring up at the bright blue winter sky, there is not a cloud in sight.  it is a broad canvas in which to paint all of the world.  the best thing is to blaze trails through untouched snow.  sound is muffled by the trees above and the snow below.  for the most glorious moments you feel like the only soul on earth.  and no matter which way you turn, there is always a fresh path on which to start.

pin worthy

i woke up this morning simply luxuriating before hockey practice.  sundays mean i get to sleep in until 7am.  i stole an extra few minutes and read anne lamott.  wrote a bit.  and sent texts to the only other girl in the world who would be awake on a sunday morning.  we were planning the next meeting of the downton abbey fan club.  and i sent a text that said hot tea... (something we could look forward to during tonight's episode) and it immediately conjured up an image of violet looking down her nose at me.  and then, you guys, i found this picture on the world wide web.  and i made a meme.  i google searched the meme font and added the words, per instructions.  and then i proceeded to crack myself up all day.  do not be surprised if it goes viral.  i am hilarious.  i slay me.  proceed to pin.

anything helps

i unwittingly went to prayer night at church.  i went because i thought there were no church services and  - let's be honest here - my husband had been in the mountains for days.  i just needed a quiet place to regain my sanity.  church is always that for me.  and prayer night ended up being so peaceful and soul lifting and weight lifting.  if not by accident, i might not have gone otherwise.

the last prayer of the night was posed in this way:  ask God for the big things you think are too big to ask for.  he can handle it.  God can do big things.  this plays on my hamster wheel, in my head, constant conversation about big and small; abundance and scarcity.  

i've been fixated for so long on the following:  the corner i started driving by in the summer. the corner where the white bucket usually sits near the street.  the corner where the man sits atop the bucket with a sign and a cigarette asking for anything that may help.

i think about him almost every day.  the tall man with the hoodie and knit hat.  the man that only sometimes smiles. the man who looks casual and really busy all at the same time.  i look for clues to his existence off the corner.  i watch for people who hand things to him.  i watch for people who are familiar to him and who sometimes join his vigil.  i try to make eye contact with him but he never looks my way.  ever.  i suspect he lives in the trailer in the parking lot across from the corner.  i see his igloo coolers, and port a potty.  i wonder if i have anything that may help.

i think about that almost every day.  if i have anything that may help.  him or others.  at prayer night i was inspired to ask for the big thing.  i asked if i could know what was the anything i have that may help.  i got it in my head and my heart to bring a meal, or leftovers, a fruit, or something and hand it to him.  it was small, but also my abundance.  it was something i could offer a little but often.  so i packed a bowl of soup, a chunk of bread an apple and a plastic spoon. i got butterflies in my stomach.  i thought about what i would say.  i would have to stop traffic.  i would roll down the window.  i would ask if this was ok.  i turned the corner and he wasn't there.  i worried a little.  the next day i headed towards the corner with a bit of extra breakfast and a plastic spoon.  i made a tiny little shout out to God to say let me help if he needs it.  i got butterflies in my stomach.  and then i saw him.  for the first time in a year i watched him drive right past me; past his corner.  in a work truck.  with brand new, fluorescent work clothes - a new hat and coat.

it didn't end up being a meal or eye contact or anything that i had to offer.  that crazy prayer night sure helped, though.

resolve

this is a year for having resolve without being tied to resolutions.  a year i feel my heart being called in big ways.  i will follow a direction based on choice not obligation.  this will be the year to speak and be heard.  that limits will be set.  that dreams will come true.  life will move forward at blinding speed and i'm sure i will wonder why i hadn't taken the steps long ago.  this year i will move beyond safety into the hopeful unknown.

beyond the storm

yesterday i wrote about grief.  i mean i wrote about it for a week.  because, you guys, i am writing again.  but i can't leave things on a bleak and heart rendering note.  there is always hope even in the midst of despair.

i thought about grief as i was driving over a terrifyingly, snowy, mountain pass on sunday night.  i left my loved ones behind, and i knew i should not attempt the drive.  in fact, my husband said don't go.  i started with no end in sight.  very little sight at all.  there was low visibility because the wind was blowing stronger than i've ever seen.  i was worried about a lot of things i couldn't pinpoint.  i was afraid, but i knew that if i could make it to town i would be able to make a choice about whether to turn around or continue on.  that was how i handled all the parts of my trip home.  there were treacherous points where turning back was not an option.  there were points where i could not see ahead or behind.  there was panic and a complete loss of control.  those were all the fearful feelings of the unknown.  i had to continue driving until i could see the lights at the bottom of the hill.

that, my friends, is hopeful.  grief is one of those terrifying things that everyone tells you you will get through.  and you don't know whether to believe them or not.  grief is another form of fear.  it likes to get you all balled up inside worrying with anticipation about what's next.  and the truth is you have no control.  and the reality is that you have to go through terrible weather, terrible seasons, to get to the light.  and if you know nothing else, hear this.  there is always light at the end of dark places.  you don't know when you will find it.  you don't know how you will find it.  but you will find it if you have faith and persevere.

my letter to grief

i wanted you to know i saw your shadow pass by the doorway.  i didn't know it was you who was coming to call on my family.  of little good that would have been, when nothing seems to stop you. life was as it once was.  i took comfort in my people all around me.  you watched us through the door and coveted our happiness.  you watched with familiarity at our blissful disregard. 

i stood up to you, face to face.  alone for the first time.  you were skillful at wielding the knife.  the moment before i was cut in two, you looked me straight in the eye and didn't look away.  i was terrified at the sight, but you took my hand and eased your way into my life.  you took refuge in the emptiness of my heart.  you crept in while i was in shock, and wrapped your tendrils through my insides.

the next of kin.  the next of ken.  maybe you tried to hold me up or make it seem different or comfort me with finality. then you slapped me with the coldness of a stranger's words.  you strangled my heart with your relentless grip.  i could feel you in my throat as i tried to choke out my despair.  how i wished to go back to the moment before.  i've had that feeling so many times since.

you forced your way into my life.  the fear and fog of the moments in between, tried to edge out my love and reason. memory will battle you for my heart until my own dying day.  for now, i must live with you struggling for control. perhaps you think, as i do, things would have been better if we never met.

my letter to grief is part of a link up on this blog.  this is the first real writing i've done in a long time. it completely surprises me that my voice presents with this:  a story of the abuse we endure at the hands of grief.  this is how i remember the moments before and after i learned my father had died unexpectedly.

portion control

one hand cannot hold the weight of the world.  the balls we are juggling will start to drop and the circus will go on without our side shows. dominoes will tumble and the ripple effect will happen.  life goes on without our help.  shells from a million years finally make their way to the shore for little boys to sift through. moms may take comfort in the capacity of their hands without trying to hold more than their share.