Learning to Breathe, a guest post

Dec20

Kindergarten2 '03

The Trace Academy kindergarten class of 2002-03, where Justin was the only boy. Rachel is 2nd from the right.

My son Justin grew up with Rachel, who wrote this guest post. They are 2 days apart in age, were in the same small class through 8th grade at our parent-involved school, then went their separate ways in high school. Though in the same youth group at church, they really didn’t connect after that. But Rachel is a special friend, eldest daughter of dear friends. I thought her story would be an encouragement for parents of college students, and students themselves.

To the girl who keeps pushing through

This is for the girl who tried to never be anything but the best. To the girl who always tried to have the best grades. To the girl who made sure she went to the school of her dreams. To the girl who pushed and pushed herself without taking a second to breathe.

That girl is me.
For my whole life I have been determined. Trying to reach my goals as fast as I could without stopping and when something happened that got in the way panic took over.
I spent so much time and energy trying make sure I graduated high school with as many college classes as I could, so that I could get through college as fast as I could, so that I could have my career and be successful and happy.
Until one day…
I realized my goals weren’t even my goals anymore. I was sprinting towards something I didn’t even want any more. My goals had turned into a mere destination I was trying to get to.
I’m 18, barely an adult by any means more than a simple number.
I don’t know what I want. I don’t know myself at all.
So what happens when dreams change?
I’ve never been one to quit. I keep pushing myself through, always trying to get bigger and better. Not so much that I could show people that I’m the best but rather in a small attempt to convince myself of my worth.
So what happens when I’m sitting at my dream school loving the city I’m in and the people I’m with but knowing that being there is not what I need?
It’s a tragic thing to love something deeply but to also know it’s not what’s best for you.
That leads to the question, “then what IS best for me?”
and the answer to that I do not know.
and that’s okay.
Well, all least I’m trying to learn that it’s okay,
that it’s okay to not have all the answers.
Cause quite frankly I’m freaking out. Deciding to pack up my room, move back home and take a semester off from college is far from anything I would have ever expected I would be doing.
Where’s the goals in that?
I don’t take breaks. I keep moving forward, I keep pushing on.
But it’s okay… It’s okay to not have all the answers.
At some point earlier in my life the realization hit me that my days are numbered and despite that number being unknown I don’t have one minute more or one minute less. I let that idea take over my mind. Because i thought if I could graduate early and be ahead of the majority then I felt like I was in control.
But life is not a race.
There is no prize for getting through everything the fastest.
Brownie points don’t exist in real life.
Learn to enjoy the ride.
Take the time to figure out who you are.
I’ll be honest again, right now I am not enjoying the ride. I’ve cried many tears the past few days. I’m mad that I finally felt like I fit in somewhere and I had it taken away from me. Nobody wants to leave their life, their friends.
Choosing what’s best even when it doesn’t feel best is hard.
But I’m working on letting go. Having peace with not knowing everything. Because goals are good and my determination to succeed is good. And what I’m learning is that taking a semester off does not make me any less of a person, it does not make me any less determined or any less of a goal oriented person. It does not make me weak. All it does is simply give me a semester off.
and now it’s time to just breathe.
Rachel gradRachel Knox is a 2015 graduate of Lake Nona High School in Orlando, Fla. Almost 19, Rachel is an accomplished dancer who’s just trying to figure out what God wants her to do. Check out her blog at Imperfectly Living – Perfectly Loved

10 Ways To Know Your Cats Love You

Dec14

Ha ha ha ha! That’s a good one, isn’t it? Not only are there not 10 ways to know your cats love you, I’m not sure there’s even 1. But I’ve owned more cats than any other animal, so here’s what I’ve experienced in my more than 40 years of having kitty companions.

1. No two are the same, even if they look like it on the outside.

Here are Stella and Luna. They were abandoned and we adopted them in May. TheIMG_1421y are sweet little girls who wreck havoc in the most innocent way possible. Luna tends to cuddle with me more, but Stella has taken to coming in my room and jumping onto my bed and purring and pushing on me until I acknowledge her presence, even at 4 in the morning. Yea. That’s kitty love. Stella vocalizes more, and is the slightly smaller of the 2. She was diagnosed with a heart murmur when I first took her to the vet.She hasn’t had any issues since. Luna is a master lizard hunter and will growl at you if you try to take away her catch.They are virtually identical in looks, but different in personIMG_5206ality. Luna likes to be in or under something at all times. I can almost always tell which is which by what they’re doing. Unless they’re sleeping. Then they’re identical.

 

2. Even one who loves and trusts you can inflict pain.

Before Luna P1030013and Stella, we had Oreo. Oh my, what a big lover he was. He would snuggle up with me every night and curl himself into the curve of my body. He was big and he was rough and tumble102_0829. He loved to lie on his back with his belly bared for all to see. That was his favorite position. But don’t rub that belly or he’d dig those fangs into you in a second! He died unexpectedly 2 years ago yesterday. He was the first cat my kids knew from kittenhood. He was 17 weeks when we got him from a friend whose son wasn’t taking care of him as he should.

3. Even when you care for them their whole life, they’re not always going to act the way you want them to.

The first kitty I had when I moved away from home and started my adult life was a 5-week old little black ball of fluff living in the bushes where her mom was a straIMG_5086y. She fit into the palm of my hand.  Ashley lived to the ripe old age of 18. She was kind of crotchety and would growl at my husband if she was on the bed and he moved in a way she IMG_5085didn’t like. That didn’t go over very well with someone who doesn’t like cats in the first place. But she was my baby, totally devoted to me. She’d been  known to scratch people on a regular basis, but as seen100_0002 in the photo, when she was quite old, she let a toddler be her friend. She loved tuna, windmill cookies, and smoked turkey. Sometimes she would crawl all the way under the covers to the bottom of the bed. I always wondered how she could breath.

4. You never forget your first love.

My very first cat was Meshach, a Maine Coon. I only have very bad printed photos of hIMG_5083er, so forgive the quality. I got her when I was 13 and she passed away after I went away to college for my junior and senior years, about 7 years later. She was my baby, so she was devoted to me. She would sleep right on top of me and was with me all the time. It broke my heart when I learned she had died and I wasn’t there for her. It’s funny that though I very distinctly remember my sweet kitty, I don’t remember the fine details of life with her. But I remember the love. I remember that IMG_5084she would frequently get these sores on the bottoms of her hind legs that we could never figure out. We had to keep them bandaged and she walked funny while the bandages were on. Had Instagram and Facebook been around back then, I’m sure I’d have much more of a chronicle of her life.

So those are my feline friends, Meshach, Ashley, Oreo, Stella and Luna. I miss each one and never go very long before getting another after one passes away. It may be hard to say how they show their love, but somehow we just know they do.

I’d love to hear about your fluffy loves.

 

 

Feline Friends–Or Foes?

Nov7

 These are my 2 kitties, Stella and Luna. They are sisters that we rescued from the shores of a neighborhood lake. They are identical except that Stella has a small patch of white on her lower belly. They love each other. When we first brought them home, at about 3 months old, they were inseperable. When one wasn’t in the same room, the other would cry and cry until her sister came running.

Then we did what responsible pet owners do: we got them spayed. My mistake was getting the surgeries done on separate days. I was taking them to a new vet, and I wanted to make sure that one did well before taking the other.

Stella was first. She came through the procedure just fine, but when we got her home, we attempted to put the evil collar on her that would keep her from messing with her stitches. That was futile. She hated it and squirmed her way out of it within minutes. Luna didn’t know quite what to make of the whole thing. Stella did a lot of growling and hissing because she was uncomfortable, but soon enough  we had to keep them from romping  with each other while Stella continued to heal.

Suffice it to say that we thought we had made all our mistakes with Stella, so with Luna we would know better. So, a few days later we made the second trip. Everything went perfectly right up to the moment when we brought Luna through the door at home.

You would have thought she had been abducted and replaced with some evil alien bent on taking over the world. Stella not only would have nothing to do with her, she growled and hissed at her like she was the vilest creature on earth.

OK. She just smells funny from the vet. And even though Stella had just been there herself, she was highly offended by the odor. But I thought surely after a day things would be fine.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. The next day there was absolutely no improvement. I had to feed them in separate places. I had to monitor Luna so that she wouldn’t even walk near Stella. This went on for 5 days.

Thank goodness for the internet. I went online and googled the issue. To a person they all said, “Give it time.”

 But Luna mourned that lost relationship. She could not understand it. I saw her cowering when Stella was near. It was like Anna in Disney’s Frozen. “We used to be best buddies, now we’re not. I wish you could tell me why.”

Sometimes we’re like that with God. If something happens and He doesn’t act how we think He should act, or He doesn’t look the way we think He should look, we back away. We isolate ourselves, or we lash out.

And He watches mournfully, sad at our broken relationship.

We kept telling Stella, “She’s your sister! She hasn’t changed. She may smell a little funny, but she’s still the sibling you know and love!”

Eventurally, after 5 long days, Stella accepted Luna again. Now they’re as sweet and loving as ever. And I will never make the mistake again of taking them to the vet at different times.

And God waits for us. He’s not going anywhere. He’ll wait until we remember that He hasn’t changed.

When Dreams Die

Nov1

cloud-tearsAs parents, we are told to never push our dreams on our children. If we didn’t make the swim team, we are not supposed to force our kids to swim. If we always wanted to be a rock star, we are urged not to hand a guitar to our kids and order them to play. I get that. We didn’t do that. No matter how much I love baseball, I didn’t make my boys continue to play when they didn’t want to.

But no one told us what to do when our kids’ dreams change.

For 4 years our eldest lived and breathed JROTC. He rocked the uniform; he earned the promotions; he participated in the competitions; he won the awards. We emotionally invested ourselves in the dream he expressed of flying in the Air Force. We spent countless hours coaching him through his application to the Air Force Academy. We made sure that we were checking in along the way, ensuring this is what he wanted to do. When the Academy didn’t pan out, we wholeheartedly threw our support behind his entrance into UCF’s Air Force ROTC program. We bought the Air Force T-shirts and put the bumper sticker on our car. His dream became ours.

Then, one day a few weeks ago, he told us he didn’t want to do that anymore.

Wait. What?

He had decided he wanted to drop out of his college ROTC program and change his major. Now, for a freshman just halfway through his first semester, changing his mind on a major is not a big thing. But what happened to the dream?

I felt like I had whiplash. What was I supposed to do now? I had the bumper sticker, for crying out loud!

OK, step back. Take a deep breath. Here are 3 things to do when their dream changes and your dream dies.

1. Assure them that you will support them whatever they decide. Of course, my younger son then informed us that he was moving out tomorrow and heading to “Hungaria” and joining the circus. Seriously, though, Justin needs to know that it’s OK to explore options, as long as he’s doing it for the right reasons. Is he changing for fear that he won’t succeed at what he wanted to do?

2. Give yourself room to grieve the dream, and let them in on the process. I shared with both my sons how I was feeling about this change, and that, in the process, I would be asking questions more for my own sake than for his. (That’s the conversation where the circus came up. Thanks for keeping things light, Son.)

3. Ask them how you can help. With a change of major, even in freshman year, came the need for a conversation with a new advisor in the new college of study. All this had to happen fairly quickly so he could register for his next semester. My question to him was, “What would you like me to do for you?” He asked me to research a couple of things for him relating to what he was considering pursuing next. I can do that. And I can pray. Pray for him and for us as we try to refocus.

I really don’t care what he does. I honestly don’t. He can be a garbage collector (though that might not be the best use of a college education), as long as he is listening to the Lord and doing what He wants him to do.

Getting a bumper sticker off the car is another issue.

image from sourceseekers.com

Mama Bear Goes Too Far

Oct31

halloween candyMy eldest child has food allergies. He is most severely allergic to dairy, but peanuts and seafood make the list as well. We discovered his dairy allergy when he was just 6 months old. Ever since then, we have, of course, taken precautions to ensure that he does not consume dairy. He’s almost 19 now, so he’s pretty much on his own.

When classmates would have birthdays and bring goodies to share, I asked to be informed ahead of time so that I could provide an alternative for him. When people who didn’t know about his allergy gave him something he couldn’t eat, he was taught to tell them thank you and bring it home for another family member to enjoy. We occasionally had neighbors bring some baked goodie by, and even relatives who forgot his limitations sent boxes of homemade or purchased treats for Christmas gifts, and he couldn’t enjoy them. He was sad, but he got over it. He’s not fond of his situation, but there’s really nothing that can change it except an act of God.

Halloween was one of those days that could have been completely frustrating for him. He really wanted to go out trick-or-treating, but knew that he would be able to have very little of what was handed out. Imagine not being able to have chocolate. {shudder} But, for a few years anyway, he still participated, then came home and doled out what he couldn’t have to his siblings, leaving the Twizzlers, Smarties, bubblegum and other innocuous items for himself.

He didn’t complain; the allergies were his reality, like it or not.

So, imagine my wonderment when a friend shared this image on Facebook:

halloween memo

What in the world could this parent have been thinking? Getting free candy from neighbors is not a right. Teaching your child that the world will cater to them is just plain foolishness. I understand wanting to protect your child. I understand not wanting them to feel left out. Truly I do. I have lived it for 19 years. But what I don’t understand is the mindset that because my child can’t do something, no one else’s should be able to either.

The lesson a child will learn from that is that they are entitled to what everyone else has. The world should look out for them. Their needs come before anyone else’s.

If your child has severe allergies, don’t send them out trick-or-treating. Tell them, “I know it stinks, buddy. I’m sorry. Let’s think of another way we can have fun.”

I believe it’s a different situation when you have a peanut-allergic child in childcare or preschool and you ask people to not bring in peanut butter, because any inadvertent contact can cause them to react. I have no problem with that. I understand peanut-free flights on airplanes. Peanut oil can be pervasive. But we’re talking trick-or-treating here. It’s totally a choice.

Suggesting that your neighbors only hand out carrots, raisins or other such items is ludicrous. It’s OK for a child to be sad about missing out on something. I think “devastated” by not getting candy is overstating it a bit. Life isn’t fair. Sometimes reality stinks, but you just have to learn to live with it.

And by the way, if I were to “practice responsible parenting,” I probably shouldn’t let me child eat candy at all!

That mama bear went a bit too far.