Twas The Night Before The Last First Day Of School

The last first day of school for Wilson is tomorrow. And he's the baby, so it's our last-first, too.

I miss the frenzied nights before school started when I was up late labeling markers and folders and packing book bags with new little scissors.

I miss the new lunch boxes and choosing new book bags. I miss that nervous excitement about a new teacher, a new grade, but the same trusted friends that they moved through elementary at ACS with.

I miss school shopping. It was always such a big event. Nini and I would take each one of them individually to buy all the things and to eat at whatever place they chose. Sometimes Columbus, sometimes Strongsville. Such wonderful memories!

This year, the boys and I made a quick dash to Mansfield to buy Wils some Converse. All his other clothes he shopped for with his friends at thrift stores.

He said he had pencils and pens and notebooks. He's not nervous. He's excited to be a senior, but other than that, not really phased.

And I am here, knowing that all the fun and excitement we had for a new school year is passed. We won't ever be in that place again. It's a tough pill to swallow.

Of course I know how blessed we are. We have living, healthy children who have excelled and grown and are ready for what's next.

My heart is what's not ready. 

Home

Today is our 24th wedding anniversary.

A couple weeks before I got married, my parents wanted me to come and play games, spend the night, have a last hurrah as a family of 3 before I officially added Mark to our little Circle of Trust. (Meet the Parents reference) 

I was living in Ashland for the summer because I was babysitting for a couple families in town.

Of course, I went and had a fun time, as I always did with my mom and dad. Lots of laughter, as usual.

But when it got late and it was time to think about going to bed, I started feeling “homesick.” For Mark and for Ashland. It was the first time I realized that my Norwalk home wasn’t MY home anymore. 

My dad drove me back to Ashland in a thunderstorm. (I do have to pause here to say that I would love to go back and just suck it up and stay all night. He must have been disappointed but he never let it show. He just happily drove me back, pointing out the lightning in the distance. Some things are just burned in your memory, ya know?)

It wasn’t just that Ashland was home now, it was that Mark was “home.”

Lots of people have been married for far longer than we have and have lots of wisdom to offer. And we’ve had lots of ups and downs, heartbreaks and joys, tears and anger, and everything in-between. 

But if I was to give advice to anyone searching for “the one,” I would say to find the person that feels like HOME no matter where you are.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

 When I was a kid, we spent almost every day and most weekends at Valley Beach, the pool in my town. My extended family had memberships, too, so that place holds a million memories of cookouts, swimming, games, and fun. 

One of my favorite things to do at Valley Beach was to do cartwheels, handstands, etc. off the diving boards. One summer, in particular, my dad was “coaching” me how to do the perfect dive. 

I can see him showing me how to keep my arms straight and telling me to point my toes, keep my legs straight and together…I took his words as gospel truth. I didn’t question it because he knew everything, in my mind. Of course he knew how to do the perfect dive.

I can vividly remember getting to the end of the diving board and checking to make sure he was watching from across the pool. I would meet his eyes, he would give me a nod, and I would do my dive. 

I would always resurface as quickly as I could so I could look over at him and get his “rating.” He was a fair judge. He would tell me if I needed to improve something, but when he was teaching me something, he wasn’t a parent who always had a criticism. With everything, there would always come a point when he would say, “That’s it. You got it, An. Just keep doing that.”

He would be 70 tomorrow. 

Since he’s been gone, his voice is in my ears everyday, replaying things that he taught me. And he taught me many things, from practical to things like throwing a football with a perfect spiral and how to shoot a BB gun and shoot a basketball.

But the biggest thing he taught me was to press on. That your past doesn’t define you. That trials come and life hurts in so many ways, but none of it can snatch me from my Lord’s hands.

He lived that way and he died that way. For however long I may live, I will strive to have the kind of blessed assurance and Faith that he had and “just keep doing that.”

Happy Birthday, daddy. I miss you every day.

On Turning 46

I'm not where I want to be. I'm not where I thought I would be. But I'm learning. And there are things that are BETTER than I could have imagined they would be.

Let's start with that. From the time I was big enough to play with baby dolls, being a mother has been at the top of my list. And I could have never imagined the four children the Lord has given me. They exceed my wildest dreams.

In the last 46 years, I have learned that having as many healthy children as you want isn't a given. Amelia, Owen, Haven, Wilson, and the teensiest one we lost before Haven, without knowing who he or she would have been, all had their role to play in shaping the person I am today. (I am not denying their OWN God-given purposes!)

I have also learned that you can survive things you never thought you could. You expect to lose your parents when you're older and they're "old." You don't expect to lose them when you're 29 and your youngest baby is 11 months old.

At now, freshly 46, I am just starting to really explore the fact that, though I have leaned on Jesus through it all, I don't have the healthiest coping mechanisms.

The looped-recording in my head sounds a little something like this, "Your dad died. You DESERVE that cake. It will make you feel better." "Your baby died. You deserve some ice cream." "Work has been stressful, you should definitely have some chocolate." "You did a great job at work today - you deserve to celebrate with a cupcake."

And on and on.

As much as I have learned not to take healthy babies and healthy parents for granted, I have neglected my own health.

And that's why I say that I am not where I want to be. I lost one of my dearest friend last year who would have given anything to have the health that I have taken for granted. And she's just one of many who I know would never treat their bodies with such disregard and disrespect.

That's something I want to really lean into this next year.

This may have been my most rambling post yet...but it's fine because it's my birthday and I can do whatever the heck I feel like I wanna do today and no one can tell me no. 😂

The Weight of WEIGHT

 It's been almost a year since I've put my thoughts down like this. It used to be a daily thing when I was younger. And had more time.

Or maybe it's only so often I have something on my heart strongly enough that it spills out onto (digital) paper. Either way, I'm baa-aack. 😂

It's not shocking that losing Haven and my dad were the two hardest things that I have ever gone through. But those were situations in which I had zero control other than my reaction. I couldn't change the outcome.

I say that to preface what I'm going to say next: Struggling with weight/food has been the hardest thing I've ever had to go through that I CAN control.

Unless you've wrestled with this particular sin, you may think it's easy and overweight people must be very, very physically (and intellectually) lazy. Just move. Just don't eat this or that.

And, speaking for myself, there is some truth to that, of course. But that's not the whole story. The real story is one of frustration, failure, agony, anger, regret, defeat, embarrassment, and sadness. 

It may be "easy" to get to where I am, but it certainly isn't easy to live here. 

It's a world of my own making, but it's one that feels surrounded by iron bars that are way stronger than I ever thought they could be. The battle isn't with food, really. It's a war in my heart and in my mind for who I am going to give my allegiance to, where I'm going to turn when I'm anxious, or scared, or mad. 

Jesus and the Truth of His Word or food? 

The answer is ridiculously easy. It's the living it out that trips me up. The weight on my body doesn't come close to the weight on my mind.

So, pray for me. Pray for your friends and family members who struggle this way. And be kind.