Another move...

Another fall. Another phone call. Worry.

Another set of plans gone awry.

Another chance to do what's right.

Another mess to efficiently clean up.

A house to box up, sell.

Another move to a new place,

to start over at the end.

Dismantling and rearranging lives already lived

never gets any easier; less heartbreaking.

And yet, when given the options,

moving, starting over at the end

is better than hearing, "They're gone."

Because of love, the move's orchestrated,

the worries lessen a bit more.

Others care and monitor, feed, bathe.

And all that's left to do

is love until the last move.

What moves you? Visit Melissa and find out more about Six Words Fridays.

The road to hell....

The saying goes that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I should know. I think I have paved that road EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. OF. MY. LIFE.

And since becoming a mother, I would say that I have been working overtime.

In the last four days, I have seen the best intentions get feelings hurt, words misspoken, leaving people frustrated, angry, sad.

The intention was to be helpful. The intention was based on assumptions.

We all know what happens when we assume. You make an arse out of you and me.

So the question becomes, once you are witness to someone's frustration, and their subsequent feelings of defeat and receive an apology that you don't think you should have gotten (because we are ALL human), what do you do?

Do you email the person and attempt (with the best intentions) to cheer up the person?

Do you just let it be?

For once, I am going to keep my mouth shut. I will not call or email. I will not Facebook or text. I will give that person space. I will not, with even the best intentions, make the situation worse.

This is difficult. I am never short on words. I always have something to say. But, in this case; as I am guessing, is the case many a time; I will not say what will make me feel better, momentarily.

Because, inevitably, I will feel worse. Because the reaction will probably not be one that I anticipate.

Because most people need their space.

Furthermore, I think I have done my time paving that road.

I don't think I need to be told where to find it.

Things you never thought you'd hear

Did you know that John likes you?

Want to go see a movie?

Can I call you later?

I think I love you.

I love you.

Your father has cancer. It's bad.

Will you marry me?

You're approved.

Congratulations! Here are the keys to your home.

Your father is too sick to walk you down the aisle.

Your father is too sick to sit in the church.

I do.

Mrs. E.

Congratulations! You have received a full scholarship to the University of Miami.

You're approved.

Here are the keys to your home.

Your house sold.

You might not have kids.

You don't smoke or drink and you're under 35. You'll be pregnant within 6 months.

We don't know your lab results. We've lost your blood. Call back tomorrow.

+

Yes. The blood test confirms you are pregnant. Congratulations!

It's a boy.

Mama.

Congratulations! You won teacher of the year.

I'm sorry. He's gone.

Is Abu in heaven now, Mama?

Congratulations! You have achieved National Board Certification.

It's a boy.

Mama.

Abu is right here with us, Mama. Don't you see him?

I wanted to let you know, the job is yours.

They don't do things over there, the way we do things here.

Your child bit another child.

Another child bit your child.

Your child called another child a**$%#.  Please speak to him about it.

It's a boy.

Mama.

Your baby's floppy.

If he doesn't make some major improvements, you might want to see a neurologist.

Mom has Parkinson's.

You're going to be an aunt.

Tia.

Mom fell.

You can breathe. Your baby does not have a tumor.

You're going to be an aunt again.

Tia.

You need to think of home care options.

You're in charge.

He did great. Is he always so quiet?

You are the best teacher I ever had.

He's a trooper.

He's a fighter.

Can't really say what's going on with him. We'll just have to wait and see.

Mommy, I love you.

Mommy, I missed you.

Thanks, Mom, for doing this.

It's not your fault.

You have a renter.

You made me love math.

I am going to miss you SO MUCH.

I love you.

Pink eye was in this room.

We've deloused the school.

You did a great job.

Ever wonder what your words mean to others? Sometimes, what you say and how you say it leave a lasting impression on people's hearts and minds. The list above is in some sort chronological order, but each statement above has shaped me. These statements have made my heart soar, my pulse race, my soul ache, my heart break.

Words have power.  Power to heal.  Power to strengthen.  Power to weaken.  Power to destroy.

How have other's words shaped you? What statements have stayed with you throughout the years, making you chose your own words carefully? Share.

Liar, liar, pants on fire...

I have one major pet peeve. There are very few things that send me over the edge, but the one thing that always gets me is when someone lies. To my face. Like I am stupid.

Unfortunately, in my line a work, the lies abound and come fast. A teacher can spot a lie a mile away.

So can a mother.

However, children often think that they are much more intelligent than their parents, and often, when feeling particularly bold, will make an attempt to make their point.

The worst is when adults tell lies in a weak attempt to deflect controversy, problems, or conflict. The problem with that theory is that usually, when the lie is discovered, the consequences are much worse.

It seems that there has been a whole lot of lying going on around here. And frankly, I am sick of it.

Our laptop's charger died about a week ago. I called our extended warranty and order a new one under our policy. It was to be delivered today.

My husband was home early due to a rabid migraine. I stayed at work later than usual to keep the children away, since nothing makes a migraine worse than having a house full of loud school aged boys. I picked up Joshua, headed to the local market for some tomatoes and headed home.

We unloaded the car, got in the house. I checked email, paid some bills online and decided to track my package. Imagine my surprise when it said it had been delivered almost 2 hours earlier! I stepped outside, checked the front of the house, the back of the house, called my neighbor to see if they had delivered it by error there. Nothing.

I called the shipping company and was promptly informed that I needed to contact the shipper so that they could initiate a claim. I did just that.

After being passed around to three different departments, and put on hold for 20 minutes, I started to give the man my information when I noticed a box in the playroom that my boys were attempting to restore to order. Shipped today. Open with a packing slip out, confirming what I was now suspecting. With said cord out.

I hastily hung up, mortified. Did what I think just happened, happen?

No one admitted to it.

So no one is allowed back in the playroom until someone 'fesses up.

It would have been easier to spot the liar with the smoking arse, though.

I interrogated everyone in my house under the age of 37. Everyone pleaded innocence, ignorance and shock at being considered a suspect.

There was a lot of finger pointing and prodding mom into thinking that a box can just walk into a house, clear it, and open itself.

I am mad.

But more than that, disappointed. Disappointed that they didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth. Disappointed in myself for badgering them with relentless questioning. Disappointed that I can't uncover the truth.

And the worst part is that I know that I could have handled it differently. I know that I should not have been so irate at being on the phone, telling the man on the other line that the shipping company had most surely NOT delivered what was in my plain sight.

Tonight, I feel like a liar. Because a good mom would have trusted that her kids were telling her the truth. Because I felt like crap when my middle son started tearing up, wondering how to trust me when I was clearly not showing him that I trust him.

Because I alone have made it that much harder for them to tell me the truth.

Truth: I think that damned box did just sprout some legs and walked right into our house, parked itself in by far the coolest room in the house, and decided to disrobe, letting all its cords hang out.

Either that or UPS has gotten a little too efficient in their delivery techniques, you know?

Forgiveness

Why does one word bring so much baggage? Why does this necessary part of humanity get lost amongst pride and inability to vocalize it?

As children, it is a hard concept to grasp. Matthew, my oldest son, seemed to be permanently mute when it came to saying he was sorry for an inappropriate action or word. Andrew had the most difficult time of all, and finally learned the lesson when he began preschool at age 2 and did not like when children bit him as often as he bit them. Joshua was quicker to jump on the bandwagon, perhaps it was seeing two older siblings express the words to each other and others.

As adults, we all know someone who is as stubborn as my former two year old biter. Regardless of what wrong they have committed, the words never flow like the excuses for the hurtful behavior. There is always an instigator, there is always an argument, there is never redemption.

I don't know why this strikes a such a chord with me lately. Perhaps it is the bitter taste on my tongue when I witness the frailty of humanity, when someone is so outside of their right mind that seeking forgiveness is unthinkable. Or, how some are so eager to apologize and seek redemption, that it shames when that I am not always that eager to soothe my own soul.

But what keeps us from forgiving and being forgiven? Are our egos so grand that we cannot be reminded of the frailties that make us human? The pill is not so bitter that we cannot do it, and really, the relief we feel when we are truly forgiven is all encompassing, especially when we have wronged another by accident, not knowing how our words can be such sharp knives that can so easily hurt those we love.

As my children get older, I wonder how our relationship will develop as they need me less for survival. As my own relationship with my surviving parent teeters between being a caregiver and daughter; it has always been hard to set boundaries and be comfortable with them. I imagine it is part of growing older, seeing your parents get weaker in mind and body.

I watch how many lives are affected when true forgiveness occurs, or when it doesn't. And more than redemption, forgiveness is a gift you give to yourself. Carrying around resentment and anger requires more energy than I am willing to give up for such negativity. Freedom comes when you are no longer bound by the things that prevent you from being all that you can be.

Please don't misunderstand. I can hold a grudge like nobody's business. But what good comes of it? It darkens the edges of what makes us good. All I am left with is a feeling of heaviness, unhappiness and the grudge. Not good friends to be around, I assure you.

You might wonder why the solemn topic. I guess, all too often, we dismiss hurtful behavior as being justified. But there is nothing worse than seeing someone trapped in a prison of their own doing, and then refusing to take responsibility.

Happiness is not necessarily having everything your heart desires. It is about being true to yourself. A being true to yourself requires examining your actions. Are you truthful without being hurtful? Are you as forgiving to others as you want others to be with you?

Happiness comes from a heart light with no emotional baggage. It comes from freeing yourself from those things that weigh down your spirit.

As for me, I practice forgiveness as often as I receive (or would like to).

Forgiveness to others who have wronged me in some way, whether intentional or not.

And mostly, to myself.

For making mistakes in my mothering, for my frailties as a human being.

And it makes my spirit light.

To everything there is a season...and a time for every purpose under heaven

With Lent almost officially over and Easter quickly approaching, I have been giving a lot of thought to changes. As a Catholic, Lent is an important season of reflection. Of looking within ourselves, finding things within our lives and selves that we should journey towards remedying.

While traditionally Catholics give up something during Lent as a sign of self sacrifice, I decided this year that I was going to attempt to rediscover my purpose under heaven. Quite a lofty goal, but one that can be terrifying, especially to someone who has always played by the "rules."

As a child, I did what I was told, never really questioning, just accepting. As an adolescent, I did not rebel. There was no dark Goth phase. I was a "good" girl. I earned good grades, did the right things, was responsible, made safe choices. I was a coward.

I have been the image that was reflected of me; living in the shadow of someone else's preconception of who I should be, at any given moment of my life, until I got married. Because when I took that step into adulthood, I felt the courage and support to really begin my own journey with a loving spouse.

I began to take risks, safe ones, but risks nonetheless. I learned to listen to my inner voice, the one that belonged to me. And blessedly, my husband was supportive. If I wanted to continue to teach at the poor, immigrant school, then that's what I should do. You want to go to Graduate School, go.

But I did not really find my voice until I became a mother. The lioness was unleashed.

It is funny, how when we are children, we want to be older. We want to be able to do what we want, when we want, and how we want. As adults, we often think back to "better" days, when we were younger, had less responsibility.

And if we find ourselves in this holding pattern; yearning for tomorrow and holding on to yesterday, we rarely live in the present.

John Lennon sang of "life is what happens when you are busy making other plans." For a lot of people, this is true. We find ourselves in a monotony of daily life, trying to escape it for a few days or a week break, only to go back to it and make more plans for the next "break."

For me, I don't think back and yearn. I think about my journey. What my season is...what my purpose is. And I think that I could not be the person I am today without all the experiences that have brought me to this moment.

The season of Spring brings life back into the Earth. It is no small coincidence that Christians celebrate Easter at such a powerful time of year. The Earth is coming back from the death of winter. We shed our coats, our extra layers, the ones that confine us. Jews celebrate Passover, symbolizing their Exodus out of Egypt, freeing them from slavery.

And right now, my purpose is to free myself of those things that keep me from being the person I was meant to be. The anxiety, the self doubt, the questions, the history that keeps me enslaved, preventing me from living in the present, in this season. Just as the Earth comes back to life, I am beginning to come out of my cocoon, morphing into the person that was always there, waiting.

So, yes, I still make plans. I remember our family's history and wonderful memories so far, but I don't not hide in their shadow anymore.

I do not let other's perceptions of me shape me into someone I cannot and do not desire to be. I am who I am, take it or leave it.

Because who I am isn't too bad. In fact, I am a work in progress, as is everyone else.

In this season, forgiveness gives us freedom. We forgive others; sometimes all too quickly, sometimes for all the wrong reasons. But do we ever forgive ourselves for the wrongs we do to ourselves? For the unintentional wrongs to the ones we love? Do we free ourselves to live as we should; free of the things that imprison us within our own souls?

Because sometimes, absolution does not necessarily come inside a confessional. It comes from within ourselves. It is a gift that we give to ourselves.

As Lent comes to it's symbolic end this weekend, I think back to my Lenten offering this year. I wonder if I have made any progress. In some ways I have. I let go of the things I cannot change. I don't beat myself up for making mistakes, I find it counterproductive.

Instead, I am trying to enjoy the life I am living between the "big" plans. Definitely a time to embrace. Turn, turn, turn.