A vacation from the blog...

I have had a hiatus from blogging.  It has been difficult to do anything here lately, with everything that is going on the last few months.

I have started going back to church and taking the girls with me.  They love church, and the church we are going to is small and feels very cozy.  Very much like family, rather than just people you see once a week.

I have been on this personal journey of examining my life and how I have caused many problems in my life. 

I want to be a better mother.  I know there isn't any such thing as a perfect mom, but I want to know that I'm "good enough".  Trouble is, we never know as parents if we are doing the right things.  One child will interpret the things you say or do one way, another child will interpret it in the exactly opposite way.  I realized this when I examined closely how my brothers and I grew up.  My mom might say something, to which I would just let it roll off my shoulders, but one brother took it to heart and it hurt him deeply.

I have to pray every day to God to help guide me.  Sometimes I find myself regretting something I have done or said.  The best thing I can do is apologize to my daughter(s) and explain why I believe I was wrong, and what I want to do better. I have explained many times that there is no perfect parent... no matter how great someone else's mom seems, they need to trust that that mother has her own issues and probably gets just as mad or frustrated with her kids  as I can from time to time.  Most of the time I get the biggest thrill from knowing and loving my kids, and they rarely disappoint. 

The completely amazing thing to me is a child's ability to forgive... and to love you anyway.  My children teach me more about what love is than any book can.  And I am humbled by their love. 

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I am coming to a better understanding about forgiveness.  I had for years thought that forgiveness meant that I forget about the wrongs done to me.  But that is not what it is about at all.  You can have compassion for and understanding of why someone would hurt you or wrong you.  It doesn't mean you should forget what they did or allow them back into your life without caution.  Having compassion doesn't mean you allow someone to hurt you again and again.  I need to love the people who hurt me, because they wouldn't have been doing the things they do without having had hurts done to them in their past.  Whatever happened to them that led to their rationalizing their bad behavior, their outlook can be changed if they want it to be. 

That is the issue.  If they truly want to change, and are willing to see changes in me, then healing can really begin in relationships.  And then, sometimes, the patterns are so deeply ingrained, we are blinded by our own self-interest or life-experiences that we fail to see the second (and third, or fourth, or fifth) chances that are given to us by the Grace of God.  But one can always hope there will be a time for redemption.

As I said, I'm going through some soul searching and changes, and I'm a slow learner.  But once it is there, once I understand, it takes hold and never lets go.

As I come to a fuller understanding of things, these realizations will be fuller as well.  We all have these journeys to a more complete self - and while I am on mine, I need to keep my heart open to it.

I've been tagged...

I'm supposed to tell 7 things about me. So.... here goes.

1. I played violin from the time I was about 11 years old until I got out of high school. I wasn't awful - probably pretty good - but it wasn't my passion in life. I really wished I'd kept up with it and learned instead how to fiddle (fiddlers have more fun).

2. My first passion in life was dancing. I always loved it and regret to this day I never got dance lessons in tap, ballet, and jazz. I wished my parents had given me dance lessons instead of violin lessons. To this day, I can't sit still when I hear a certain beat that makes you want to get up and boogie. (Sorry for the 70's lingo.)

3. For half of my adult life, I weighed 105 pounds. Yeah, I find it hard to believe now, too.

4. I used to swear like a sailor. Now I swear like a mother.

5. I based my decision to work in a job all my life upon the perceptions of my parents that I'd had when I was 5 years old. It was at that time that I began wondering what I'd do with my life when I got older. I looked at my mother, who was always unhappy and for whom nothing was good enough or right. Oh, she had her moments when she was happy with something, like when she got her way about something, but for the most part, she really resented being tied down with 2 kids and it wasn't her idea of what she wanted to be doing. (I still don't know what the heck she would have been doing if she hadn't been a wife and mother - she hated working.) My dad, on the other hand, was happy. He was happy most of the time (with few exceptions). Since he had a job and made money and got out of the house (and wasn't tied down to the kids all day long), and mom stayed home with us and seemed to be pretty unhappy - I decided that I wanted to work in a job or have a career instead of being a mom. Unfortunately, no one knew that the problem with my mother was that she was clinically depressed and needed medication. Maybe if they'd had the depression meds back then that they'd had today, she would have been happier and I would have been more open to being a mother from the very beginning. As it was, my decision to have a career instead of kids led to almost 30 years of feeling empty and missing something in life that was important to my being a woman. And that was being a mother. I now can't believe that as a 5 year old, I made a decision that deprived me of so much joy in life... Fortunately, God stepped in and changed all that.

6. I had always doubted my ability to be a good mother. When my youngest brother started living with a woman who'd had a child by another man (Bill knew she was pregnant by another man when he first moved in with her - which brings up a myriad of things I'd like to say but won't here), I began to make time to spend with the child. At some point, when she was about 11 -12 months old, I began keeping her overnight, and the bond between us grew very strong. I used to bring her up to my parents' house (who the child called Papaw and Mamaw) to visit with them - they adored her. It was at one of these visits that my father said, "You would have made a wonderful mother." I can't tell you what that did for me. Between falling in love with that little girl and my father recognizing and confirming that my actions were of a loving mother, I knew firmly at that point that I had missed out on the most important thing a woman can do with her life.

7. I am 52 years old and I don't dye my hair. No need to. My hair is my natural color - and so far no white or gray in it. I don't expect that to last very long after we adopt our second daughter, though... So, which is better? L'Oreal or Ms. Clairol?

OK, now I'm supposed to tag some people... Oh, my - I'm such a recluse. Here goes...

Dawnn at The Many Faces Of Madison

Sarah at COMING AROUND AGAIN...

Sharon at Journey to MaryAlice

Gina (Caleeo) at Olivia, Opinions and Occasions

Karyn at Emily and Olivia Updates

Super Mommy at Me and My Two Chicadees

Steve and Jen at Our Journey To Adopt Grace

Now, if you've already been tagged, just ignore me. I'm used to it. LOL!