I would blog, really, except that someone didn’t do any studying since break started and now with four days left we have an essay, a short story, an SAT to cram for (three weeks and counting) and a few thank you notes that are important to his mother that he get out soon.

My sugar-plum dreams of ice skating and playing our new games and watching movies together have gone right out the proverbial window.

Instead, it looks like my last few vacation days will be filled with Geometry, Algebra and Desperately Trying Not to Strangle a Twelve Year Old.

Wish me luck.

The dog, one of the cats (the only one who emerges from my bedroom) and I are all sitting in the same three foot square of space in my living room. Why? Because the sun, after days of hiding, is peeking out from the clouds and casting it’s bright rays upon our floor.

And we are all soaking it up.

To boot, unseasonably warm temperatures and rain yesterday unearthed the green lawns once again. A bit of blue in the sky, a touch of green on the earth and rays of golden sunshine through my windows.

It is a very good day, indeed.

I have never been one to make friends quickly or easily. The older I get, the more this seems to be true, but even then, all those years ago, I was cautious. I barely knew myself.

She needed me. Needed a sister. Needed a friend. So did her brother. In ways I expected and many that I did not. He needed strength from me that I did not possess, strength to hold up two people, strength to decide a life for two people, strength to lead a family. I thought our path would be shared, our burden divided, but I was required to carry the load. I was ill-prepared for the challenge and I know now that I did not handle it with Christ’s grace.

He was not the man I had thought he was, the man I needed him to be. He did not lead, he only followed. He did not choose, he only agreed. He did not provide me with the emotional support I needed, he was in need himself and so he leaned.

She was a young one, a lonely one perhaps. In circumstances out of her control she needed a friend, a dear one, and I was the obvious answer. But already holding up the weight of a man, I was unable, maybe just unwilling to take on her needs as well. They called her Porcelina, and it was further verification to me of her fragility. She took to me like glue and I was terrified, weak and cold. I was handling her brother with kid gloves and was left with nothing to offer to her. I thought loving them both, meeting the demands of both would crush me. I had nothing to hold on to myself and the weight of two people in such need was more than I knew how to handle.

They said I was terrible to her. When I was concerned, they said I was critical. When I worried they said I was judgmental. When I tried, I failed. And so I quit. I was holding up a marriage that was bound to fall and so my attention focused inward and stopped reaching outward. There had been nothing so divisive in our relationship as her. Perhaps she became the scapegoat for the thing that truly stood between us all those years.

The divorce, as I see it now, was inevitable. Unable to make him the man I thought he was, I left. If I had been in Christ more, if I had been stronger then, maybe I would have made different choices but by then, I had become weak and exhausted, I needed to lean, I needed support and there was no one to lean on.

I left, watching him fall behind me. I had to leave knowing he would hit the ground, but with hope that perhaps he might finally learn how to hold himself up. I’m not sure that will ever happen, but I did not have the capacity to love him into strength. And all I saw in him was weakness.

Of course the impact rippled and her heart was crushed, too. It was not one I could mend, in the process of mending my own. I had to come to terms with facing, naming and realizing my own delusions and moving forward, moving on, moving past.

All these years later, the hindsight is painful. Who was I then? Who was he really? Was he the man he is today, or would it all have come out differently if I had been a stronger wife? I will never know. But today, she and I have stepped on a bridge. I wouldn’t say we’ve met in the middle, I’ve perhaps caused her too much pain to make the whole journey just yet, but there’s been healing, and kindness and I know that has taken much on her part to offer me.

She is strong today. She is a mother and a wife and a sister and an aunt and a daughter and her needs from me today are not the desperate cries of the child I met all those years ago. And today I stand a much different woman, one empowered by the strength of Christ. I do not know where God will lead our journey, but I know He has taught me much.

When the weight of the world was too much for my shoulders, I let go and dropped the burden. What I did not know was the weight was never mine to bear alone. Perhaps the people that I felt were leaning on me, depending on my every turn, my every word, my every breath, perhaps those were the people who had kept me standing.

I cannot undo the decisions I have made and I am not certain they all need undoing, but I hope in some small way I can heal the hearts. I hope that there can be understanding, forgiveness and compassion. We have all come a long way since then and I can only hope that God will continue to lead us together, down this journey, in support of those we love in common, and in support of the One we all love together.

They are beautiful people. Not the sort you love to hate because they were born with silver spoons and life let them drive on Easy Street the whole way, but the sort you love to admire because life has been challenging and they are the better for it.

When we are together, laughter comes easily. Sitting and talking is the priority. I don’t think I’ve ever heard them say an ill word about anyone. Not that they wear only rose-colored glasses, but they prefer to look for the good, to see the blessings in life and in people.

It’s easy to see where they learned it. Walking in the door to his parent’s home where once again we find middle meeting ground, I am greeted like one of the family. Hugs and hellos, how are you really’s, and invitations aplenty to stay for dinner, stay for awhile, stay as long and as often as you’d like.

This time his brother was there. A brother I have not seen in what we figured out was ten years. Not since their wedding. When my life was an entirely different life. And now his brother’s life is an entirely different life from then. He’s now married and has a precious little daughter.

I left before the meal; I bowed out with excuses of the weather and darkness and the drive. But the truth is, I still fight the demons. The ones that say, “Look at that!! You want that!” The ones that remind me that I am the only one who walks into that house alone. And so I left, alone, and in the dark, in the fog and the rain, I prayed.

Lord, you have given me these beautiful people, given the world these beautiful people, to show us how it should be. I know they aren’t perfect. I know they have their own demons and their own battles. And I know, Lord, that they are not beautiful people because they are married, or because they have beautiful children or because of all the things that they have. I know this, even when it is hard to admit it. I know they are beautiful people not because of what they have filled their lives with, but with WHOM they have filled themselves. I know it is because they are filled with Your love, God, that they are such a blessing to the world, and to me. Remind me, Lord, remind my envious nature that I do not walk into that home alone. I do not leave it alone. I do not join them as a third-wheel. I join them as a person who can be filled with You, too.

It is hard, this time of year, to not focus on the loneliness. To not wonder how nine years have passed since I celebrated a holiday with someone by my side. But Lord, today, and for all the days to come, help me to focus on filling myself with You. For it is only You that can fill my soul completely.

It’s the trees you notice first, as you pull up in the dark. You can see them from quite a ways away now that the corn is down and the leaves ar off the trees. A row of pines, much bigger now, all lit up for the holiday.

She has flickering candle lights in all the windows and the porch light on. Although they are expecting me, I don’t see any lights on in the windows. Eli and I crunch as quietly as we can through the snow up the walk where I see her in pajamas still, peering out the front door waiting for me.

The kids aren’t up yet, so we wait. It’s over an hour before Birdy comes sleepy-eyed into their room, wrapped in a blanket. After a few minutes she goes back to wake up George.

The day is filled with all the splendor and excitement of the holiday. The kids are eager to see what Santa brought them. A beautiful, thoughtful gift for me, one chosen by Birdy who listened to my heart one day, another created by Bear’s hands to go alongside it. Treasures, both. Since it’s just the five of us this year the gift opening goes faster than usual and the kids are off to enjoy their gifts. There is much plugging in and charging to be done. There is laughter from the adults over the significant changes in technology from when we were kids, but the irony that they use it to watch shows we grew up on. Three seasons of the Cosby Show on a portable DVD player.

Jules has food aplenty. More than we could ever need or want. With a fire roaring in the fireplace, we flip channels, we play Guitar Hero and we laugh. Jules works on the puzzle, a tradition Mom started and she’s carried on. We eat pizza for dinner, another tradition that will never die.

While there is nothing remarkable about the day, while there is nothing extraordinary to savor or remember, Christmas at Jules’ is like coming home. And while I miss my boy, and I look forward to our celebration together next week, today was a beautiful way to spend Christmas with family. And for that, I’m truly grateful.

Merry Christmas!

…a computer can actually boot up and connect to the internet in two minutes flat? Literally?

ME EITHER!!!!

(I’m really enjoying “Friday” as we’ve dubbed the new HP in our house!)

“Mom? Is it pronounced ‘cam-a-ka–zayer‘ or ‘cahm-a-za-kee‘?”

“Um, Flash, it’s kamikaze.”

“Oh.”

It’s one thing to hope for it, but another for it to happen.  The call came at 5 am for me, the perk of being a full-time employee at the school is that you’re on the call list.  A snow day.  The day before Winter Break.  A free day.  A day to spend with Flash.