A Time for Everything

Many years ago, when I was going through a really rough patch in my life, I bought a book I heard about on Oprah. Yeah, in my pre-work, stay-at-home-mom days, I watched Oprah. Back then, I will shamefully admit, I loved Oprah and rarely missed a show. So shoot me, call me crazy, whatever. I admit it. My name is Rose, and I used to love Oprah.



The book is called "Simple Abundance: A Daybook of Comfort and Joy" by Sarah Ban Breathnach. I remember two things about that particular episode of Oprah...one, when Oprah asked her "Now how do you pronounce your last name?" and she replied, "It's not 'Bon-breath-neck' it's "Bon-brah-nach,' and two...she described the reason for writing the book...which was to encourage people to focus on the blessings in their lives, even in the midst of really horrible things. I bought the book, which consists of daily readings for an entire year. Each month focuses on a different topic, and each day contains a one page or less subject to focus on for that particular day. I especially loved the pages at the end of each month's chapter, which were called "Joyful Simplicities for (Month)." Her main premise of the book, though, is for the reader to find things each day to be grateful for and to jot them down in a journal. While I didn't always keep up with reading each day, for more than a year, I did keep a "gratitude journal" and wrote my thoughts each morning or evening about what I was thankful for that day. I have always been a pretty postive, upbeat person, but forcing myself to focus on the good things in my life, even when things were not so good, changed my outlook. While I wish I could say that over the years I have kept up my written gratitude journal, I have not. However, that "attitude of gratitude" has never left me, even during really hard times. In fact, on the hardest of days, I seem to automatically think to myself, "now what has been GOOD about this day?" It is often a conversation I have with myself on my way home from work each day.



I am not always perfect at it, and there are definately days that I'd like to punch the happy, look-on-the-bright-side of things Miss Susie Sunshine right in the ol' kisser, but then I tell myself that I'm not striving for perfection, that some days will just royally suck, that there will be days that no amount of positive spin doctoring will turn a pile of sour lemons into a sparkling crystal clear pitcher of sweet lemonade.



I know I have digressed. Shocking, huh?



I recently took this book off the bookshelf, dusted it off, put it on my nightstand, and have been making an effort to read it each day. Some days, the message really speaks to me, other days, I don't even finish reading because it seems silly and doesn't relate to my life at all.



Today was not one of those days.



The topic for September 28 is "A Time for Everything." Each day also has a quote underneath the title, and today's quote is, "There is a time for everything. And a season for every activity under Heaven." -Ecclesiastes 3:1.



To everything turn, turn, turn, there is a season, turn, turn, turn...and a time to every purpose...under Heaven. A time to laugh...a time to weep. A time to gain...a time to lose. A time for peace, I swear it's not too late.



Okay, so that is The Byrds talking and not the bible...



But it really made me think. It talks about how it is physically, spiritually and emotionally impossible to be everything we want to be at every moment. What I took from it is that we can't give 100% to work, our family and ourselves, all at the same time...that there are different seasons to our lives that we as women go through, and that just because we are in one season at any given time, and possibly neglecting another season, doesn't mean that other seasons will never come. She writes that just because we don't have certain things right now, that doesn't mean that we never will. She quotes Anna Quindlen, a former Newsweek columnist, who says, "You probably can have it all, just not all at the same time."



This was a very timely thing for me to read today. I am definately in a "work season" right now, and I feel horribly guilty about that. Pretty much every other area of my life is suffering these days, and has been for quite some time. My work obligations are crushing down upon me, and while I would like nothing more than to say "screw you work!" I can't. All I can do is look forward to a few months from now, when work will slow down and I will once again be able to focus on my family. I will decorate for the holidays, bake, and hope that that season will make up for this one.



For now, I am going to try my damndest to revel in the last line of the September 28 topic in my "Simple Abundance" book...



"Blessed is the woman who knows her own limits."



I know my own limits right now today...getting the laundry done and making a decent dinner for my family. If I can achieve those two things today, I'm going to call it a good, no a great, day.

What is it about my daughter turning 16....

that is turning me into a puddle? She's my 3rd kid to turn 16 for crying out loud! But wow, I am feeling so very emotional about it. Is turning 16 a more important milestone for girls than for boys? If so, I wonder why. MTV dedicates a show to girls turning 16, but not boys. (I hate that show with a fiery passion, by the way. I am so grateful that I don't have a bratty girl like the ones depicted on that show).

I sometimes look at this wonderful, beautiful girl of mine and wonder where exactly she came from. Because she can't possibly have come from me. Although I know she did and I remember it quite well. But I'll get to that in a second! Lauren is pretty much everything I was not as a 16 year old. She is funny, outgoing, athletic...I could go on and on. But I think that what I love the most about her is the confidence she has in herself. She knows what her talents are and isn't afraid to talk about it. She's been working on a project for biology this week, and last night she said to me, "Mom, I am usually good at art, but this sucks." While she has confidence in herself and her talents, she isn't cocky about them at all. She seems to have found that balance at the tender age of almost 16. I have never been anything like her, and I know I probably never will be, which is why I often wonder where the girl came from, especially when I am watching her get knocked around, and do her own knocking around, on the basketball court. And while I wonder that, I thank my lucky stars that she is nothing like I was a as a young girl, and I hope that it will make things much easier for her than they were for me.

This morning, I was remembering back on this day 16 years ago. I remember it clearly...the day before I was going to welcome my first daughter into the world. I loved my boys fiercely, and if I would have been having another boy, I would have been just as excited. Before I found out a little girl was on her way, I told those who asked, "Are you hoping for a girl this time?" that I didn't care as long as the baby was healthy. And I really did mean that. With all I had been through, I really didn't care. However, I'd be lying if I didn't say that while I would lovingly have welcomed a third baby boy into our home, there was a part of me that was secretly hoping for a little girl. I was over the moon thrilled when the ultrasound tech told me she was 100% sure the baby was indeed a girl. I immediately knew her name was going to be Lauren. I chose her name after my beloved doctor who had been with me for several years of heartache and problems and difficult pregnancies. When I was pregnant with Justin, I told him that if I ever had a little girl, I was going to name her after him. His name was Lawrence, and I just couldn't bring myself to name a baby that!

So back to the day before my sweet little girl made her grand entrance into the world in quite a dramatic way. I left home early that afternoon to do some last minute errands and go grocery shopping. I was gone most of the day, and when I arrived home, I was greated by Tony at the door. He was so excited, and said he had spent the day cleaning. I looked around with a puzzled look on my face because honestly, the house was kind of a wreck. Turns out he had cleaned out a couple of closets and the laundry room, and I remember thinking, "We are having a baby tomorrow, and you thought it was important to clean out CLOSETS???"

The next morning as we were leaving for the hospital, I opened the front door discovered a card from my friend Kelly...it was a card that popped open with the name Lauren, and she wrote "Happy Birthday! Love Kelly" on the inside.

Lauren's delivery was the fastest of any of my kids. I have the best story about her birth. I was giving birth to her at St. Mary's Hospital in St. Louis, and it is a teaching hospital. When I arrived early that morning, the nurse asked me if I would be okay with meeting the resident who was there and answering a few questions for him. I agreed, and after the initial meeting, he came in a few different times with the nurse when she was checking on me. By the time it was clear that I was ready to push my little girl into the world, my nurse asked me if I would be okay with the resident watching the delivery. He was a new resident and had never seen a baby be born. I said okay, and he came in the room, put on scrubs, his mask, etc, and by the time he was ready to watch, it was too late. Lauren was born so quickly, after only one small push, that he missed it. I will never forget the look on his face.

Back to my girl...this amazing girl of mine will be 16 tomorrow. All too soon, she will be gone and making her own life. Some days, I am anxious to see what the future holds for her because I just know it will be something fantastic. Other days, I want to cradle her little girlhood in my heart and hands and not let her grow up. I know that I can't do that, but God, I do so want to at times.

There is something else that I will never forget about giving birth to my first daughter. A few days after I arrived home from the hospital, I recieved a card in the mail from my Aunt Mary. She wrote a note in it telling me how she couldn't wait to meet my baby girl. She also wrote something that to this day still brings tears to my eyes. Her words are forever etched in my mind: "I hope you get as much love and enjoyment out of your little girl as I have always gotten out of her sweet Momma." If my Aunt Mary were still here, I would honestly be able to tell her that I have.

I think it is time to end this. I want to share some pictures first. This one was taken minutes after her birth, the first time I laid eyes on my beautiful baby girl.



This next picture was taken the next day as we were ready to leave the hospital.




And here is my awesome girl now. I love this picture of her. I love her dimples, and her sweet smile. I love how she still calls me "Mommy." I just love everything about her.

Reflections, 10 years Later

The morning of September 11, 2001 was a typical one in my house…one spent getting 3 kids ready for school…breakfast, making lunches, dealing with arguments and meltdowns about breakfast and lunches and clothes. At around 8 am, the phone rang. I looked at the caller id, and it was my friend Jessica. Feeling a bit irritated that she was calling me in the midst of school-morning chaos, I pressed “TALK,” and before I had the phone to my ear, I heard her saying, “Turn on the TV! The World Trade Center just got hit by a plane!” I didn’t usually turn the tv on until the kids were ready for school, but I quickly went into the family room and switched it on. Of course, I was in shock, and I must have said “Oh My God!” 20 times in the space of a few minutes. I was horrified thinking of those poor people on the plane and in the building that was hit. “What a tragic, horrific accident, and how could something like that happen,” I remember thinking. Then, as I watched in disbelief, still on the phone, the second plane hit the other tower, and I have no words, even all these years later, to describe how I felt at that moment…the moment when I and the rest of the country realized that this was clearly no accident. Jessica and I stayed on the phone for a long time in stunned silence, but I had to hang up to finish getting everyone ready to get out the door for school, even though I was terrified of sending them to school, while my attention was glued to the television. I was in my bedroom when I saw the report on TV that a plane had also crashed into the Pentagon.

The memories of the timeline of that dreadful morning are pretty blurry. I don’t remember if the the first tower came down before or after I took the kids to school. When I got home, though, I called Jessica back. We had planned to go shopping that morning to buy a gift for our friend Judy who was going to be starting chemotherapy for lymphoma the next day. Another friend was having party that night as a way for everyone to get together and wish Judy well. Jessica and I decided to go shopping anyway, as we had already picked out a sterling silver bracelet for her in the jewelry department at Walmart. It was a Tiffany-style bracelet…chunky silver chain with a heart charm, and we had already made a card and written, “All of your friends are holding you in their hearts.” Wow, strange the details I remember now that I am writing.

Most of the crowd in Walmart that scary morning was gathered around the televisions in the electronics department. That is where we heard the news of the second tower collapsing. It was impossible by that time to not be fearful and speculate as to just how many more planes were out there that were going to crash. I hate to fly anyway, and I swore to myself I would never step onto a plane again.

We bought the bracelet and then spent the rest of the day at my house glued to CNN. I had never even watched CNN until that day, but that was the only channel on my TV for days. We even left it on overnight as we slept. I have so many very vivid memories of that surreal day. Even now, 10 years later, the thoughts and memories are scattered.

*I remember how later that afternoon, after Jessica left to go pick her kids up from school, I took a cup of coffee out to my deck. Rachel was napping, and it was a picture perfect, beautiful fall day…one that most of us who live in St. Louis longingly look forward to during the oppressive days of July and August when the humidity turns the sky a hazy bluish gray even on cloudless days. On September 11, 2001, the sky was the color of a cornflower blue crayon with not a cloud in sight. As I looked to the sky from the safety of my deck 1000’s of miles away from the total devastation that others were experiencing, it was hard not to notice the obvious absence of planes and their white trails of exhaust that normally criss-cross the sky. My house is in the direct flight path of the St. Louis airport, only about 10 miles away, so low-flying planes are an everyday occurrence, and on that day, the sky was eerily blue and eerily quiet. I had never noticed the background noise of planes until that day when they were missing.

*I remember driving to pick up the kids from school late in the afternoon, and I passed a couple of moms I knew walking with their kids, pushing strollers, laughing, seemingly having a good time, and I thought, “How in the world can they be out walking and laughing like it’s a normal day?” I wondered if they were clueless and didn’t know what had been happening all day, and I resisted the urge to roll down my window and ask them why they weren’t at home in front of the their televisions.

*I remember the prayer service held at Sts. Joachim and Ann church that night. To this day, tears come to my eyes when I remember the standing-room-only crowd similar to the crowd on Christmas and Easter tearfully singing “Be Not Afraid” and “On Eagles Wings” and “How Great thou Art.” And how we all joined hands as we recited The Lord’s Prayer. It was many months after that before I was able to sing in church without crying.

*I remember how after the prayer service, in somber moods, we all went to the party for our friend who was starting chemo the next day. There was a huge pile of touching gifts for her, plates and platters of food that no one felt like eating, and of course, the main topic of conversation was the events that had unfolded that day. I also remember how one of our parish priests, Fr. Jeff Massen, was there…the only man in a houseful of women. We all loved him…he was a young priest, new to our parish. I also remember how comforting it was having him there. At one point, several of us were gathered around the island in the kitchen with Fr. Massen, drinking wine, and he asked us all to join hands and pray with him. I don’t remember his words, but I do remember they addressed the fears we all had, not only about what was happening in our nation, but also about the journey our friend was about to embark on.

*I remember calling my dear Aunt Mary the next day. At one point, I was crying, saying how horrible I felt for all of those people who had died in such a horrific way, and how horrible I felt for their families, and mostly, how afraid I was. She told me how it had brought back such vivid memories for her of the day the Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbor and how for days afterward, everyone was waiting for the next attack. She told me how when Pearl Harbor was attacked, everyone talked about the feeling that life as they knew it would never be the same again. And that was exactly how I had been feeling…that life as I knew it was over.

*I remember how helpless I felt. I wondered what kind of world my children would grow up in.

*I remember the patriotism of the majority of Americans. I have never before or since seen so many flags flying in front of business, homes. Little flags attached to plastic clip on holders even flew from the windows and rooftops of cars. I bought my own flag to hang from my porch for the first time ever. I also will not ever forget the nasty letter I received in the mail a couple of weeks later from someone who didn’t like the way my flag was flying. Included with the letter was a 2-page list of all of the rules and regulations for flying the American flag with the things I had violated highlighted with a neon yellow marker. It was signed with a handwritten sentence that I would be better off not flying a flag at all than flying one so disrespectfully. My worst violation according to him was that I was flying it at night without a spotlight on it. I didn’t know that was a rule…all I knew was that our president had asked all Americans to fly their flag around the clock, and that is what I had been doing. It was clear from the letter that this person had driven around the neighborhood and made note of everyone who was in violation in his eyes. He signed the letter, “a concerned veteran.” The day I received that letter, I took down my flag and I haven’t flown one since.

*I remember the feeling of pride and awe I had for everyone from the common person to our politicians for the way they handled the crisis. The feeling of camaraderie and fellowship was something I had never seen before, and haven’t seen since. In those early days, it didn’t matter if one was rich or poor, Republican or Democrat…we were all in it together, and after that first horrendous day, I think that solidarity began to make us feel invincible and sent a “don’t mess with us!” message to the rest of the world. That camaraderie made me, and I think many other people, feel a bit of security in an untenable situation.

Ten years later….

I sit here late on this night before the tenth anniversary of what has come to be known as simply 9/11. As I have written these words and thought back upon that oh so frightening day, I can’t help but think about the ways that I have changed. I think back upon that afternoon when I sat out on my deck with a cup of coffee gazing at the sky that was way too blue, and in many ways, life hasn’t been the same. In some ways, it’s been worse, and in some ways it’s been better.

It has been worse because I have fears now that I never knew before that day. We have been at war now for nearly 10 years, and with 2 sons, one who is an adult and one who is close, it is impossible to think of either of them flying away to a desert halfway across the world and being shot at. That is not something I ever gave a thought to before September 11, 2001.

I often glance at the sky and upon seeing a plane, say a silent prayer that all is well and those passengers end up safely on the ground. I never had a thought like that, or even paid attention to planes in the sky, before September 11, 2001.

Whenever I see a flawless, cerulean blue sky, even after all of these years, my first thought is of that beautiful early fall day when the calmness of the splendid blue sky was so out of place…when that blue sky masked a darkness that was felt in hearts and minds across the world. I often think it might have been better if on that tragic day, the sky would have been full of thunderclouds and lightening and downpours of rain.

So I will end this with no ending at all really. Ten years later, I still have a difficult time watching the footage, and I still feel the initial shock and horror I felt when those mammoth towers crumbled, even though I know it is coming. It is like I expect, or maybe just hope for, a different outcome. Yet I will watch anyway. And I will forever remember on days when the sky is such a clear, beautiful blue. September 11th blue.