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Monthly Archives: May 2015

Empty Nest Syndrome…Is For The Birds…


This is my son, Jake. Cutie patootie, right? He is 4 years old, loves apple juice, Thomas the tank engine, tearing through my house faster than the Tasmanian devil and endlessly watching The Lion King.   Oops. That was then….. Meaning 15 years ago. This is now:
Yes, he is 19 – a bit older. Would you believe his interests have somewhat changed?? He loves cooking anything greasy and or spicy, reading long theological books and randomly analyzing his mother and sister. When he graduates, He wants to be a psychologist and open up a clinic to help children with PDD. Being diagnosed at age 8 with Asperger’s syndrome, Jake is a success story and wants to help other children so – and I quote “they won’t grow up feeling like a total out – of- place idiot everywhere they go.”  In other words, My son wants to save the world…

As the end of His freshman year at college comes to a close, I have just one constant thought that dances through my mind –


         Looks like we made it!!

(Oh Lawd how he would hate it if he knew I compared his life to a Barry Manolo song. Good thing that neither of my children are especially supportive of my blog. They have no idea whatsoever the cruel things I say about them.)

Anyhow, back to the pictures… and yes, I am well aware that they are screen shots from my Facebook but I have no idea how to save my pics and then post it. And the one person who does know is now off at college – hence the blog post on empty nest syndrome.

Any hoo- I received a phone call from our interim associate pastor today.

HER: Hi there – we are starting an empty nest support group and a little bird told me you might be interested.

ME: “Errrrrrrrrr. Ummmmmm.” I squeak; sucking back 2000 gulps of air. “Oh really, somebody told on me- I mean – somebody told you that?” My face burns and tears begin to collect in the corners of my eyes. “No! No! You’re mistaken. I’m doing much better. No support needed here!” I say trying to hold it all in. “I mean, seriously, it’s selfish to miss your child so much, right?” I say while hearing my voice cracking.

HER: “Well no, I think it’s normal and being around others that are sharing a similar struggle can be very soothing.”

ME: “Ohhhhhh ummmm thank you very much. I don’t need to be soothed. In fact, I think it may make things worse if I’m reminded that he’s no longer here. You know, the whole yanking the scab off a wound thing? My scab and I, we’ll think about your support group though and we’ll keep in touch.”  My scab and I tell her.

Now It’s one of those – I wish I hadn’t even answered the phone call days… The whole thing put me in such a puddle dither, it makes me sad all over again.  I don’t need some stupid support group. What are we gonna do, sit around with our snotty nosed mascara smeared faces  and boo hoo about the last bird that flew the coop?! No thank you.

I have to ask… What is it that makes some people go through this transition so much easier than others? Is it because they are not a single momma? If you’re married, You won’t be coming home to an empty nest. Not really. Big bird daddy will Still be around. Is it because others have better coping skills? A more vibrant career all set up? For the love of George Washington, I’ve still got one at home…how could I be sad?!??


ONE chickadee LEFT. THREE YEARS and then that lil bird will be flying away too. Uggggg!!!

Is it just me? Do I need to just get a life. I thought I had one….. Being a mother 🙁

My scab and I will report back to you in the near future with our decision on the support group. In the meantime, any and all advice is welcome.

Mornings In June

IMG_2769.JPGMay 17, 2015

It is Sunday afternoon. I’m grouchy and I’m groggy. I didn’t sleep a wink last night.   My son is home from college and he obviously was not sleeping very well either. All night long, I can hear the creaking 1923 doors in our home open and shut. Back and forth. For hours…

He has no clue how loud he is – Until I fuss at him and then he opens and shuts the door for the last time.

As a result, neither one of us sleeps at all. I watched the hours flip past and thoughts of frustration roll across my mind…. I have to teach Sunday school in the morning…..So much to do….. At 2:03 a.m., I get up to let the dog out. “Certainly, I tell myself”, when I come back, “I will be able to sleep.” 3:014 a.m., 4:41 a.m., rolls past me. “It’s ok.” I say trying to calm myself. “You can sleep in. You’ve let the dog out, he can last until mid-morning. I’ll skip my morning quiet time.” I tell myself. “You have it every day, one day without won’t be a big deal.” I toss and turn. I try reading my Kendall. “If I get up at 8:30, there will be just enough time to get ready for Sunday school.” I close my eyes.

And then it happens. It happens all the time. I think of things a certain person did to me just this past year and painful thoughts dance across my mind. “How could he say those things?” I want to know. “How could one person be responsible for so much grief?” And the most important question: “When, Lord, when will it stop hurting!?”

It is 7:03. “Snooze until 8:30.” I whisper.

By 7:23, I am out of bed and making my morning coffee. I plop down into my salmon colored chair and my eyes gaze around the room. It is now 7:46. “Ugg, what have I been doing for 30 minutes???” I fuss at myself. “I wasted 30 precious minutes of my quiet time by rolling around in the bed and making my coffee. I shoulda had my bedroom slippers closer to my bed, my blanket needs to be in the same place every morning.” I tell myself. “This is my precious time, don’t waste it!”

And then the thought occurs to me…when exactly did this small time frame of my morning, my day, my life become so very important to me? My daughter, Izzy, has been getting up early for YEARS now to have quiet time. She reads her devotional, then she mellows alone. She does not like to be disturbed.

The question of when exactly this whole morning time started kept nagging at me, a burdensome little child who kept pestering “When was it? When was it? When did it become so important that it’s no longer an option to skip?”

So I ask Izzy in church. (Yes, we were writing notes during the sermon.)

And believe me, I wish I still had the note but I don’t.

Me: When did I start having my quiet time?

Izzy: Dunno, a year now?

Me: This summer?

I think back of when exactly this 30-45 minutes became a sense of pure peace…then suddenly, it became a must.

And then, it hits me…it hits us both.

Izzy: Yes. June.

We both looked at one another and watched as the chill bumps scooted across both of our arms.

Me: Yes, it was June.

You see, it was June 2014, when my whole world fell apart. I was sad. And hurt. Completely devastated. My life was falling apart at such a rapid pace, nothing seemed to give me any peace.

It was June that I woke up every single morning sobbing inside asking “Why God? Why did this have to happen??’

If you had asked me a year before, “Say, in a year from now, will you be jumping out of bed at the crack of dawn and rushing to grab your coffee for quiet time? ALONE?? – Will that be how you ultimately start your day?”

I would have laughed at you. I would have said NO. You see, I had very different plans for my mornings. I had looked forward to these well thought plans for 15 years. These plans were supposed to be the answer to all my dreams.

But God has His own plans and sometimes they match the ones we have for ourselves. Sometimes they do not. It was June that something or someone lifted me up outta that bed every single day. And yes, I was ALONE.

Now, I cannot, will not, do without it. Why?

It is because God is there, waiting very patiently for me. Always. I open a book, any book. No matter what, He is there, listening. During this quiet time, the thoughts of this past year are laid aside. I don’t have to worry for 30, sometimes 45 minutes. I’m not sad. I’m not angry. This is our special time. Just HE and I. I talk. HE listens. I think a lot.

Most mornings, 45 minutes feels like 45 seconds. And I know when I close my book and start my day, He has already taken the first step before me…and all I have to do is follow.