Part II

Okay, I'm going to go through this quick, because I have a lot of catching up to do :)

Let's see...bitter, disobedient...ah, yes....

So, I get there, only after missing the exit, of course.  I pull into a parking place thankful to have just made a wild dash across lanes to finally get off on the right exit and still be alive.  I take a deep breath.  I don't see their vehicle, so I call.  Why oh why didn't I pray?  Why didn't I just LET IT GO!!!  I don't know - but I couldn't.  I was bound and determined to hate this poor woman this particular day.  I dial her number.  They are inside, just ordered.  I'm annoyed.  She sounds a little annoyed too, since I'm earlier than she expected.  My fault, forgetting the time difference in our drives.  They had waited in line a long time and just sat down.  Annoyance certainly understandable.  But I was all out of grace this day.  The next part is tragic, and well, frankly downright embarrassing, but honesty is my vow, or this blog is worthless, so here goes.....

She says something that just hits me wrong (probably something very sweet, I can't even remember, which proves my irritation is not her fault!!).   I take the cell phone and ring it in my hands and make a silent growling/ screaming sound.  Yes, I really did.  Yes, I'm admitting this.

It's not too late to turn back.  You really don't have to read the rest.

Sighs...I look at the phone before putting it back up to my ear.  I guess I thought that little burst of frustration might work in my favor....it didn't.  I had rung my hands to snugly around my candy bar Nokia and hung up on her.

Not good.

Really not good.

I try calling back....no answer.  Voice mail.

I sigh, open the car door, grab my purse and head indoors. 

My stomach is literally turning recalling all of this.

I'm almost to the door. 

I spot them coming out. 

Not good.

Really not good.

She is noticeably irritable.  Well, frankly, she is mad.  Noticeably.  The kids are awkward.  They don't smile.  They don't say hi.  They just follow her.

I say, "What's going on?"

She says, "Well I figured since you hung up on me, you must be pretty upset, so we left."

Oh dear...I'm caught.  And what do I do?  This is the pivotal moment.  I can confess everything here and be humiliated, but have a clear conscience.  I can even ask for a moment alone with her first.  Because parental confrontation with ex spouses is uncomfortable enough...I would never instigate it in front of the children (of course everyone knows its better to do it in your locked car, alone.)  Instead, I just lie, "Sweetie (yes I even went as far as a term of endearment) I didn't hang up on you."  L-O-S-E-R  It's okay, I said it first, so you can agree.

At this point my stomach is violently letting me know I'm a liar...or was that the Holy Spirit?  At any rate, things within are in utter turmoil.  But there's no turning back now, right?

She never breaks pace...she is headed straight for their vehicle to retrieve bags and get them in my van as soon as possible. 

I desperately want to discuss this alone with her at this point. 

The poor kids....oh me.  I wanted to point a wand at them and make them shrink away and hide.  I felt so horribly and utterly responsible.  All the while thinking to myself how much effort and pray I had put into being the best step-mom I could.  I truly felt like all of that work was in vain because of the moment I had caught myself in.  I felt like all was lost and there was nothing ever to be gained again. 

Every time I tried to reason with her, she was short.  Her movements were quick and decisive.  Half of me couldn't believe this professional women was acting this way in front of her children.  The other half was ignoring the log in my own eye in order to think this.  If the kids weren't there I think I would have enjoyed giving her a real piece of my mind.  I mean  I had mentally been doing this the whole way there right?  Now was my opportunity.  But all I couldn't think of was the kids faces.  I had really blown it.  Right now, her actions, wrong or right, were not my concern.  I had to make things right, but how?  She wasn't exactly kosher with a conversation at this point.  And before I sound like a saint, I wasn't pushing it too hard...I was still physically shaking from lying in such a circumstance.

We part.  I go to the bathroom and shake some more.  Vowing to myself there is nothing I could possibly do to make it right.  I struggle through strange and awkward conversation with the kids.  The youngest looks on the verge of a break down.  I don't want to overstep in providing comfort, I understand where the loyalty lies yet I also don't want them to feel alone.  Half of me is mad for her leaving them with me at this emotional point.  I want more than anything to pick them up and comfort them, but it's not what they want.  The sight of me seems to be worsening their grieving.  All they want is for her to come back and have breakfast with them.  This is all I want at this point too, yet I feel as though I've stolen even that from them.  Then I remember I can't take responsibility for how she reacted towards me, only for my poor choices towards her.  I know their starving, she had already confided this in me.  I meekly offered to get them some food.  They stick to their guns and refuse.  Eating without her in these circumstances most certainly would indicate betrayal.  What a sicko to have a part in putting these kids in this position!  Haven't we done enough damage already? 

She calls.  She is apologizing for her behavior.  I accept of course.  She talks to the kids.  We move on down the road.  They still refuse food.

Silently praying as we drive, I know what I must do.  I pull off at the next exit.  I pull into a fast food restaurant.  I get out, turn to the kids and admit my lie.  One of the most humiliating moments of my life I must admit.  I leave the car to call her and apologize.  She is gracious beyond description.  I am utterly and indefinably humiliated.  It was good for me.  I like to consider myself more holy than her.  This helped to correct that.

If the kids had much respect for me, I believe in that moment it was lost.  That broke my heart, although I took comfort in doing what was right.  I love my Jesus.  He held me even after how I had been acting.  He didn't even say, "I told you so." 

I mourned that evening as I recalled the events before my husband.  I mourned for my sin.  I mourned over the humiliation.  I mourned for feeling like the misunderstood.  I think step-moms feel like that a lot.  By the real mothers, by the step-children.  There is so much which is not appropriate to explain to the children and it never will be.  I actually grieve that.  The reality is that most of the time, wanting to explain those things are really just excuses for my behaviors.  Sometimes its because I long for justice and fairness.  But that is impossible, humanly speaking.  This situation is not fair.  It's not fair to the kids.  It's not fair to me.  I actually can say that out loud now.  But weather or not its fair, I'm still required to obey God.  I am still required.  That's fair.  And that's enough, because God is just.  I can trust Him.  I can trust Him to redeem me, even when I'm a real witch.  I can trust Him to take up for me, even when it feels like I'm drowning and no one really notices, especially those I long to notice me so much.  I can not only trust Him, but have joy that even though this blended life is a hard one, it really teaches me about Him -and that makes it all worth it.  Why would I want to be any place else?

PLEASE NOTE!!!!

I am now advertising on my blog, but I misunderstood the content of the advertisements so bear with me while I work it out.  I DO NOT advocate the messages appearing in the advertisements on my page!!!!

So let's play catch up, eh?

Two posts, two days in a row by jove, a new record!  (Can you tell we are reading Carry On, Mr Bowditch ?)  In all honesty I'm sick and...well, bored.  I'm usually pretty active, but not today.  Not this entire spring actually.  Oh I just can't keep it from you anymore, I'm pregnant again!  I'm in my 9th week and so far everything is looking good.  Again, we are holding off on telling the kids until around the 15 week mark.  I thought since I was bored and all we could play a little catch up.
Well, let's see.  What shall we talk about?  Ah....yes, of course.  Alas, I will share with you one of my worst moments.  After all, none of us bloggers are perfect are we?  And since this is indeed a therapy blog, we must encourage honesty on all fronts.  So I will share with you one of my worst, most humbling moments thus far as a step-mother.  I secretly refer to it as my "scanky moment".  I hate even the sound of that word, which is why it is perfect to describe my character in this story.
Let's back up to late winter when the boys were planned to come home for an early Spring break.  This was possible since for a few short months they were living 6 hours away instead of the usual 1300 miles away.  So, the plan was for me to meet their mom  at a half way point.  Check.  My husband was on call for work, so I went loner on this one.  I don't like doing that.  Not because I mind, just because it does disappoint one of my step sons a little and I notice things like that.  But I thought we'll make it fun, it will be fine.  It had been a stressful week for reasons I won't go into at moment.  Needless to say, my daughter stayed home with my husband and he was going to finish up her school work with her while I did the traveling.  It was a great plan.  Except, when we are weak from stress and not on guard and we are going to meet the person who we love to blame all of life's problems on, we really should have some sort of accountability.  We meaning me.  I learned this about myself through this experience.  Noted to self.  Moving on....
I set out.  We were to meet at 12:00 their time 11:00 am our time.  Good it was 8:15, just enough time for the 2 1/2 - 2 3/4 hour drive.  Right on time.  I took a deep breath and then remembered..."I need gas!!!  Oh no, I'm right on time.  Well, I have to get gas."  I get to the cheapest gas pump in town which is of course out of the way, and I realize, "Oh crap!  I don't have my purse."  Turning the van around, I realize I must make the call of shame.  I dearly despise this call because it is a well known fact that my husbands ex-wife is NEVER late and ALWAYS organized.  Of course, if I were on guard, I would recognize this as pride and work through it.  Oh no!  Not this day.  I roll my eyes at the thought of their perfectly timed trip and grimace as I dial.

"Hey!"  Fake happy.

"Hi, how are you?" I can hear that highway sound and can tell they are already on the road and going.  How sweet she is to ask after my welfare.

Rolling my eyes, "I'm fine.  I just went to get gas and realized I didn't have my purse, so I'm going to have to go back home,  get gas, then I'll be on my way.  So I'll be a little late."

"Oh okay. What time do you think you'll get there?"   I don't know!  It depends on how fast I drive!

"Uh....I guess it will take about a half  hour to get back home, and get gas before I get back on the road."

"Oh, okay.  We will probably stop and waste a little time eating or something like that.  Just call us when you get there."

At this  point of course I had forgotten that it takes her just a little over three hours to make the trip, and it takes me only about 2 1/2 hours.  If I had remembered though it would have made things worse because I didn't like this, because I like everything to be even and fair.  That way no one can pretend to be a martyr.  Which I have in confidence accused my husbands ex of being.  Although I feel I have evidence of this I of course could not know if she is indeed guilty of this level of manipulation....when I'm bitter I just take comfort in accusing her of these type things.  Close your jaw now, it does get worse before it gets better.  Now by this point even though I have forgotten the time issue which would have prompted me to give a different answer about my arrival time, I've finally gotten everything straighten out and I'm on the road.  It is 8:45 now and I'd just gotten on the interstate.  This was a pivotal moment.  It is in this quietness that I can regroup, and get back on guard.  But what did I do?  I found it my duty to nurse every bitter thought I've ever had about this women.  That is what bitterness is after all, enjoying unforgiveness.  I didn't avoid the Lord completely here.  I just decided to whine and gripe to Him  about the ex the whole way.  Oh sure I threw in a little, "Oh God, please help me love this women", or a "Oh God, I know I shouldn't be so bitter..but..."  I did say I forgive her.  But I didn't actually do it.  Because if I had, I would have given up my right to be bitter.  And I just didn't want to do that on this ride.  I was being disobedient....and we'll see where that landed me, next time......

Brithday Blues

Well, today is the 29th and I'm 29 years young!  Yippee :)  Truth be told I've got a few of the birthday blues.  And no, it's not because I'm sick with an upper respiratory infection, despite several nearly heroic attempts to consume my weight in raw vegetable juices laced with grapefruit seed extract and vitamin C powder all the while choking down handfuls of vitamins and garlic only to chase that appetizing recipe with a big whiff of fresh lemon to keep me from drowning in nausea.  Okay, so I'm a little dramatic.  Well, it's my birthday and I can be dramatic if I want to......or something like that.
I had a wonderful day despite my temporary illness.  Wonderful birthday and get well wishes from several friends, as well as helpful advice and tangible help to keep me healthy.  My husband has pampered me with the only spare time he has in a day.  My daughter has gone out of her way to whisk me off my feet and show me how much she loves me and cares for me.  I truly feel very blessed. 
But....there has to be a but, right?  Or the title of the blog wouldn't be birthday blues.  I miss my boys...okay, my step-boys.  I miss them.  Not because I expect them to shower me with birthday banners...because I truly don't.  There was a time when I would have tried to throw myself a pity party telling myself something like, "They didn't even call!  See, that proves it, they don't love me!"  W aah, w aah cry me a river.  That's not it though, I don't have those type of expectations for my sweet step-boys.  It's just that this is another day apart from them.  Another day in which I realize these two super special, growing young men, really don't have anything to do with my day to day life.  But I love them, and I want to share my life, our life with them.  I want to know them in the everday kind of way, not the vacation stay kind of way.  Truth is, they never much notice their dads birthday either.  Wonder how that makes him feel?  He doesn't much talk about it, but I bet it feels a little something like what I've felt today.  This little place in my heart that is just empty because I long to share it with two of the most special people in my life, but I can't.  And I'm not gonna lie, it would be nice to be remembered on my birthday by those two people.  It would be nice, and sweet and endearing - but I don't expect it.  I guess I'm just coming to grips with the fact that I can hurt without a pity party.  It's okay and normal for me to pour my heart out and love these two boys and be sad when they feel so far away, because they are so far away.  It is the same feeling we had last weekend when we stopped to pray for our son in the middle of our family night because he was in a big production at church.  We couldn't be there.  It made our hearts ache.  I can't help but ache for them as well.  If me, a grown adult of 29 hurts and has a hard time, how do these  precious ones take it?  Thankfully I serve a big God.  He's big enough to handle my hurt, to fill my emptiness and to care for the boys hurts too - even if they are growing up 1300 miles away.  Before I know it, I'm not so blue anymore.  Just sad, and this too shall pass.
Hebrews 12
¹² Therefore strengthen the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees, ¹³ and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be dislocated, but rather be healed

Blended Eve Wontons

I literally am laughing out loud as I breathe in our living room Christmas scene.  We live in an old farm house.  Tall ceilings, black dog curled up before a wood burning stove, also known as a real romantic and cozy fireplace.  In reality it is a real pain in the tush.  It's dirty, it's hard work, it's time consuming - sorry to ruin it for you hopeless romantics, but it is actually the thought of a fireplace you love, not the real deal.  Regardless, somewhere in a covetous rant I gave up feeling sorry for all of the painstaking trouble it has caused me and chose to embrace the approximately half hour of uninterrupted coziness it brings in an evening, before the work of the  "last stoke" dies off and the breeze blowing through the curtains once again robs my toes of circulating blood and summons my reluctant musings back to the reality of leaving the comfort of my couch to fetch a piece of wood...outside.  I act as if I do it each night.  Truth be told, my husband carries much of the burden when he is here.  At any rate,  this is my half hour of pure bliss and I mustn't spoil it by thinking of harsh realities.  Truth is the scene here could be taken right out of a movie.  Okay, judging by the size of the tree my husband cut down, it would probably have to be Christmas Vacation, but hey, the tree taking up a forth of our living space happens to be just breath taking tonight, okay?  All I need now are visions of sugarplums, yet all I can seem to think of are Christmas' past.  That is what made me laugh out loud.  As I sit here intoxicated with cedar fragrance my mind joyfully remembers a Christmas Eve right here in this living room five years ago.  Shaking my head.  It was a cold, blistery night.  Ice sputtered down here and there, promising every Tom, Dick and Harry in this one horse town to be out getting 5 gallons of milk and canned food items.  Not me though.  I hadn't even thought of the weather.  I had just bid farewell to my, then, three year old daughter so she could spend her first "blended" Christmas with her dad and his family.  My heart gasped within me for breath, but there was nothing there to satisfy an inhale of a broken heart.  I was frantic inside.  I had nowhere to escape, yet so much to do.  My body went through all of the motions.  I answered the phone to my even more frantic mother.  It was a reserved frantic.  My mother is NOT the frantic type, but I picked up on the calm uncertainty in her voice and I could almost touch her fear.  How could I communicate a response to what I could only intuitively feel her saying.  Neither of us would dare speak the unmentionable thoughts aloud.  What good would it do now?  We must carry on, plan on.  Our conversation consisted of make-shift plans that satisfied neither one of us.  Mom was disappointed, but driven to make it work.  I frankly sulked and gave her work to do, hiding little from the only person I could really allow to truly see my misery.  To be honest, it wasn't the divorce I grieved.  And though I missed my little girl, it wasn't even the lack of her presence that gave me that unquenchable emptiness.  It was change.  It was the reality that nothing would be as I had planned it from here on out.  The control I thought I had on my life was gone, never to be returned.  And though I had never made big, definite plans of what my family would look like, or even having one for that matter, the last minute blueprint I had drawn up for how things should go, my dreams, they had been shredded.  And here I was left to make sense of it all.  You may be wondering at this point what is so funny.  Well, the "best" this year happened to be Chinese take-out and Mrs. Edward pies.  That's right, while all of the Bible belt planners were out hording gasoline and kerosene for the storm that never hit, The China Buffett was bringing wontons right up to my front door...in the county, on Christmas Eve.  I'm guessing  those sweet souls avoided the hussle and bussle of Chirstmas that year, and I think they may have made a small profit too.  I think that's funny, now.  I can say with great confidence I didn't particulary find it  funny five years ago.  Five years ago, I would have been happy if they were closed and I had to go hungry, then I could have drowned a little longer in my sorrows.  As it were, I really had nothing to be sorry about.  I was with the man I love, and now call my husband.  His wonderful two boys were enjoying The Grinch.  I guess it didn't help that I hate that movie.  But honestly I was bound and determined to have a miserable Christmas Eve.  I complained all night.  I felt it my duty to feel sorry for all of us and our condition, you know, pork fried rice on Christmas Eve.  It wasn't long before I brought the whole party down. I was hanging on to what had been so tightly.  Change was happening, and though there were moments I embraced it, this night I flat refused to go along.  I had two options; bitterness or greive and move on.  Christmas Eve five years ago I chose bitterness.  Thankfully the Lord didn't give up on me.  What a joy to sit in this room, now and remember with laughter that night.    He has taught me so much in five years.  I've accepted my broken down, blended family and I cherish and love them in unspeakable ways.  Sure there are times of pure dissapointment, and there are still many times I have to bring the bitterness of my own heart to the table and just straight up repent.  But truly, tonight as I bask in the memory of Christmas Eve's past two stand out in my mind.  The night we ate General Tso's before an open fire (doesn't that just do something for ya?) and last year when we were completely childless.  I have learned from my Creator.  I knew in my mind He was Peace on Earth, I mean how many times do we hear that phrase repeated at Christmas?  But last year on Christmas Eve, I learned it in my heart.  There was no striving, no yearning for what I couldn't have, just complete rest in His arms.  Complete joy in celebrating the greatest gift known to man kind.  Isaiah 9:6 For unto us a Child is born, unto Us a Son is given; And the governement shall be on His shoulder.  And His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.  I knew Him by His names that night.  And that was enough.  And this year it still is.  Kind of makes me want to order out.

Meditating on the Word

Last year, in December, my husband and I suffered a miscarriage as a result of our first pregnancy as a married couple. It was very sad. But we found out how common it actually is to miscarry and we were hopeful for another chance. About three weeks ago, we found out we were pregnant again! This time we chose not to tell the children until the four month mark at Christmas. This would be perfect since the boys would be in town and it would be everybody's turn to be with us for Christmas.
Thursday I went to the doctor with a few symptoms which were not encouraging. The doctor could find no heartbeat, and he couldn't see any baby - but wouldn't say for sure it was a miscarriage - hoping I'm just not as far along as we all thought. Many thoughts were going through my head - thoughts that were not so good to be meditating on. Was there some sin in my life that needed to be dealt with? Could this be a sign from God? Punishment? Are we not good enough parents to have more? Yes - believe it or not, I get sucked in pretty quick to negative thoughts. The doctor hadn't even confirmed a miscarriage and already I was condemning myself.
I took a deep breath and decided we should have family night one night early. We had a good night of laughter, Little House on the Praire, pizza, ice cream and brownies with our daughter. Then it was off to bed for her, and there I sat. Thankfully the Lord spoke to me through His word and through a friend and my thoughts began to reflect His Truth. And just to make me feel special God brought just the right thing at the right time - my 14 yr old step-son popped up on Facebook asking me if I would mind proofing a paper he had written. It was so nice to be needed. That may sound silly, but they are so far away, living such a different life than we are - it was nice just to know I had been thought of. Call me a nerd, but I had a blast proofing his little paper!
The next day as I was cleaning and listening to Chip Ingram's Living on the Edge program, I heard him speaking about the importance of meditating on Truth. It was a good reminder. (Does God ever have to tell you things repetitively?) Whatever we set our minds on controls us. So during this waiting season of my life - I shall meditate gladly on God's word - knowing in Him whatever the outcome, I am secure in the promises of His love. Will you meditate with me?

Isaiah 38:15 - 19 - a praise to God from Hezekiah who the Lord had just promised to heal and add 15 years to his life

John 15 - abide

And I don't know why, but this one is my favorite for right now -

Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus, who, although He existed in the form of God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men. Being found in appearance as man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on the cross.

Phillipians 2:5-8

What Time Doesn't Heal

It is the little things that are struggles for us step-moms. I got a letter in the mail stating my step-son was to represent our county in October in a State Variety Contest since he won a regional variety contest this past summer. I was immediately excited. I thought, "We're going to be able to see the boys!" That was my first thought....geeze when will I learn it isn't up to us when we see them. I sent an e-mail to the mother letting her know the situation. Her husband, the boy's step-father, is home from overseas this month, and they have a trip planned with him - so the contest is a no-go. I'm trying so hard to understand. I'm really trying not to be selfish. It is right - it is right. It is right for them to be together, to have their family united for a short time. I guess it just feels like there is more evidence. More evidence that the boys don't really have a life here, a home. It is just where they spend a few weeks in the summer. Sighs. I'm grieving. I'm grieving not having a family. Time only stacks up more evidence it seems. More evidence prooving I don't have a family.
Then I remember. I remember about the sacrificial love of our Father in heaven. I must focus on this. He gave up His only Son - His very position at the right hand of the Father in heaven so that we could be a part of His family. So we could be adopted, grafted into His family. So we could have unbroken fellowship with Him. I remember that it is my reasonable service to sacrifice my life to Him because of this. It is the least I can do. I don't love the boys because I can see them, because I have the opportunity to share my life with them. I don't love them because they are my husbands boys, and therefore mine. I don't love them because they love me. I love him because He first loved me.
I know what I'm doing here, being a step-mom, isn't anything compared to what many people go through, what their struggles are. I've never lost a child to death, I've never struggled through cancer. But this walk is hard to accept nontheless. It goes against human nature. That I should sacrifice my finances, time, energy, plans, and dreams for children who could never give me what most children give their parents - simply themselves. They aren't mine to receive, yet I've been called to give of myself to them. When I grieve what I can't have as a stepmother it comforts me to remember the sacrifices our Father has made so that all those willing could be grafted into the family of Christ. I remember the many times I rejected His sacrficial love. I look around at our world and I see how He is rejected by so many over and over. When I feel rejected I have learned to feel ever closer to our Father in heaven. Just because I feel rejected doesn't mean what I'm doing is worthless. It could be the most important thing I've ever done. What time doesn't heal, God can still use.