Tag Archives: remember

The Best-Laid-Plans

On Life,
Photo Credit: "Keep calm and carry on", © 2009 Derek Keats, Flickr | CC-BY | via Wylio

The best-laid-plans…Ironically, this is a phrase coined by a Scottish poet in the 18th century. (Once again, truth refuses to age.) Robert Burns tells of a farmer who unearths a mouse’s nest while plowing a field. I think perhaps a more modern approach might be the phrase, “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Both of these well used phrases could easily describe the day I’ve had. It’s a rather tedious story about the logistics of moving across the pond and the oodles of migration paperwork. (This could be an easy mark to go adrift into the political weeds of immigration in general but then we would miss the point.)

For the last few months, we have planned. It’s sort of like a target. The further away one is from the intended action, the more vague the planning. The basics are talked through. Should we sell our home or rent it? Can I find a job? What happens if I can’t? The general aspects are ironed out and we move to the next concentric circle. One step closer to the thing.

We are rather close to the center now. We leave our home in 9 days. I spent the morning filling out visa applications and realizing that our well-planned itinerary may come crashing down around us. What happens if the visas don’t get approved before we are scheduled to fly out and we have to change our tickets? What happens if I miss my training? How much is it going to cost to change the tickets for the dogs? (Yes, as if taking 4 people isn’t challenge enough.)

The spinning begins. The stress meter tops out and darkness and despair descend like a chaotic fog. Quickly the questions change from how to why. Why are we doing this again? A question I have been asked frequently and for good reason. A question I have had to revisit myself today as I watch the best-laid-plans get doused with gasoline.

Several years ago our daughters expressed an interest in studying abroad. David and I encouraged the idea then realized we would be sacrificing a whole year we could be spending with them. He came up with the brilliant idea that I teach math (maths if you are in the UK) somewhere abroad and we take them on this adventure. Bailey and Ryan were fairly persistent, encouraging this idea of moving to another country. The discussion of a few years ago brought us to this point of visas, and packing, and leaving in 9 days.

Each one of us has had breakdown moments in the past few months. Sudden realizations that our lives are about to drastically change. (Oh and did I mention Isaac is going to be a Marine? Can we add that to the mix?) I find myself having to lean into the advice I have given others. Remember. As the stress of the unknown looms overwhelmingly, breathe and remember. This is what I tell myself…”Remember the specific times you have overcome difficulty. Remember the hurdles you have already cleared getting to this point. Remember why you started this thing in the first place.” The landscape of the adventure may have changed drastically, but the heart you had when you took your first step has not.

We leave in 9 days. And truthfully, I’m not sure how it’s all going to work out. But I remember why. So, best-laid-plans be damned. We jump ship in 9 days (metaphorically, of course) and these best-laid-plans will turn into stories and moments to remember as we stand on the precipice of the next adventure. (Insert deep breath here.) Or as the Brits would say, “Keep calm and carry on.”

A Valentine Message

On Life, , , , ,

 

conversation hearts
Conversation hearts

Be mine.

I “heart” you.

XOXO

We literally ingest these messages. Like some weird ritual where we hope through osmosis, the feelings of security and safety that emanate from these short notes will pass the lining of our stomachs and make their way to our hearts.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m a Valentine geek. My table has been decorated for six weeks. See?

valentine centerpiece
Happy Valentine’s Day

I “heart” the idea of a day set aside to gush over those I love. I made heart shaped pancakes with raspberry syrup for my family. I spent $20 on cheesy cards that will line our waste basket within days. There are heart napkins set out waiting for their debut at dinner tonight.

What I’m saying is I love the premise of Valentine’s Day. (Pun intended.)

Such Valentine enthusiasm has not always been the case. I remember days of longing to have a Valentine. Someone who would give me cheesy cards and buy me flowers and candy and take me to dinner. And I know many people who can relate. We long for someone to say they love us, to say they believe in us, to say we are special. To send us a message that we are loved, that we are lovable.

We ingest messages everyday. Some from those around us and some from inside of us.  Words are inscribed in our memory and like osmosis, so often they find their way to our heart, to the center of our being, to the place we hold a picture of who we are.

A Valentine Message.

I have a message for you, regardless of your relational status. May it pierce your heart, the very center of your being, the place you hold a picture of yourself.

Here’s my conversation heart to you in the form of a song.

Who says? Selena Gomez
Who says?

Who says?

Bells, Sheep and Sunsets

On Life, , , , ,

the hills of umbria

We have been home from Europe for almost a month. It is beginning to feel like a dream and that scares me. I seldom dream. And even less often, I remember what I dream. So some of the next blogs are going to be the retelling of a dream. In hopes that I don’t forget.

I wish I could tell you there will be some order or rhyme. A chronological progression through England, Italy, and France. It’s not going to be that. Think of it more like, “Where in the World is…?”

And our first stop is Italy…

The ability to be in more than one place at a time is not a new wish. Who can forget Dolly?

Screen Shot 2013-07-31 at 3.31.12 PM

The scientific introduction to cloning. And in the same year, 1996, Michael Keaton did a movie called Multiplicity. He cloned himself and set out to divide and conquer. (Pun intended.) We are curious to know if we can live outside ourselves, our physical bodies.

I’ve told my children on several occasions that I cannot be in two places at once. Now I am realizing that is not entirely true. Though we cannot create physical clones of ourselves (to which my husband shouts “Hallelujah”) we do have an innate ability to be in two places at once.

 

Casa La Ripe

That’s me in Italy. It represents a piece of me that is still there.

Every now and then, my mind wanders to noon, outside the little village of Poggio Aquilone. The bells from the ancient rock church propped on the edge of the hill echo through the lush valley. Metal hits metal and reminds those within a large radius that the day is steadily moving on. An invitation to pause and listen. To be still and let the twelve chimes surround and envelope.

A sermon in rich tones.

“Today is all you have. There will never be another day like today.”

I got home and realized I had left behind a piece of me. Would I learn to compensate? Would I pine away and long for wholeness again? Would I even be able to find the pieces should I return to those places?

But Europe didn’t take anything from me. It was an exchange. I left part of me there and made room to bring something of Europe home with me.

I miss the church bells. The day doesn’t seem as sacred without them. But I look at the stark hills across the valley. The sun is setting. It radiates through the clouds and paints the sky a myriad of colors I cannot even name. Something stirs. And I am reminded again.

 “Today is all I have. There will never be another day like today.”

I close my eyes and visit the little village on the hill in the heart of Italy. And in the quietness of the Nevada desert, I hear the bells chime.

 

Back the Badge

On Law Enforcement, On Life, , , , , ,

 

I’ve written about being a part of the thin blue line. Joining the prestigious family of law enforcement as the spouse of an officer.

In those early years, I learned a great deal. Don’t leave the garage door open all day. Don’t answer the door during the middle of the day. Give my husband some room after work to decompress.

I also learned a few codes. The important ones.

51-50. Crazy person. I felt it was important to learn this one should it ever creep up during an argument. If he was going to call me crazy, I was at least going to know about it.

The other one I learned early on was 11-99. Officer needs help.

But last Saturday, after almost 14 years, I learned something new.

There is strength in numbers.

A fellow law enforcement wife, Rae Johnsen, felt it was time to bring law enforcement wives together and she was right. Spouses from many different law enforcement agencies came together, under one roof. She called us to Back the Badge.

Women came locally, from a hundred miles away and everything in between. A group of strong, independent women who support their law enforcement husbands.

It’s easy to tear a single piece of paper. It’s far more difficult to tear a phone book.

Over a hundred women gathered and put their pages together. We laughed and cried. And an amazing thing happened.

We didn’t stage a coup. Or start a crusade. We didn’t design our own flag. We didn’t talk politics or promotions.

We discovered common ground. 

And I learned I wasn’t alone. I am not the only woman who has learned and is learning to live in the in-between. That place where the stress of the law enforcement life and the isolation of the law enforcement life collide.

On those days when the stress is bearing down and the fear of the unmentionable looms large, all I have to do is remember that day. The smiles, the hugs, the knowing nods. I’m not alone. And even better, I’m not crazy. There are a whole group of women who get me and get a part of my journey.

A group of women who have been taught not to trust others, found each other. And we discovered there is strength in numbers. If you haven’t discovered that feeling yet, you should. And although there isn’t another Back the Badge event scheduled (yet), there are other ways to get connected.

Here are some options to check out:

Back the Badge (on Facebook)

Wives Behind the Badge (www.wivesbehindthebadge.org)

You have your spouse’s back, but maybe someone should have yours.

Have you found strength in numbers?

The Weight of the World

On Law Enforcement, , , ,

The annual Halloween party has come and gone. This year, it was held the night of our epic moving sale. Epic in the sense that all living room furniture is gone and all bedroom furniture from our bedroom is gone save our bed. I watched it all drive off to new homes. Saying good-bye to bearers of memories and probably a few lost coins.

With last vestiges of energy, I was tasked with transforming our eight year old daughter into a rock star and our nine year old daughter into an ice fairy. After makeup and clouds of colored hairspray, I had a few minutes left to figure out how to transform myself. This is not the first year I have tried to convince myself that haggard mom of three is actually a costume.

I thought I carried the weight of the world. 

And then my husband came to my rescue. “Here,” he smiled, “wear this.”

Moments later, clad in combat boots, bloused pants, a old tattered bullet proof vest and a cap, I was ready to go. From haggard mother of three to tattered security guard. All evening, I clod around in the twenty pound boots and pulled on the twenty pound vest, threatening to strangle me.

I thought I carried the weight of the world.

“Is it normal to suddenly feel like you can’t breathe?” I asked my husband.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s normal.”

As we said our good-byes, I fantasized about getting home and taking off the heavy vest and the weights on my feet. And then it struck me.

I thought I carried the weight of the world.

But I don’t. I carry the weight of my own little world. Dishes, laundry, carpools. And it gets heavy. But my law enforcement husband, the one who puts on these weights everyday actually does carry the weight of the world.

The kidnapper, the car thief. The hostile woman late for work. The guy with the felony warrant who has a tail light out but pulls a gun because he has far more to lose than a fix-it-ticket. The accident scene where a mother realizes her baby didn’t make it. The notification to the parents of the teenager who was going to fast and struck a tree and wouldn’t be graduating after all.

I discovered a valuable thing. Yes, the boots and vest are heavy. Not to mention the duty belt laden with tools of the trade. But they symbolize something that weighs even more. The commitment to do the hard thing. To serve the public and keep them safe whether they like it or not.

A heavy burden.

I thought I was tired before the party. I thought carting around those boots and that vest was difficult. But in a room full of fairies and rock stars, my boots and vest were just a costume. I could set down the weights at the end of the party and simply hold on to the pictures. Fun reminders of a another year.

But for those who really do carry the weight of the world, they need no help to remember. Sights and smells are imbedded in their memories. And all those faces and all those incidents are difficult to forget.

It must feel like the weight of the world.

 

photo credit:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/infinitejeff/69254223/

 


The “R” Word

On Life, , , , , ,

There are many words over the course of a lifetime that are monumental.

Marriage.

Children.

Moving.

I’ve done all of those. Some more than once. And true to form, each time was monumental. My life changed forever.

I remember.

Right after I graduated from high school, I chose to live in Central America for nine months. (Long story.)

“You will never be the same.” Several adults said to me before I left. They would look beyond me. A far off expression in their eyes. Like they could see into my future. Or maybe they were looking into their past. Either way, it creeped me out a little and I grew tired of hearing it.

I remember.

I resigned myself to a smile and nod in response. What does one say to that? It sounded more like a sentencing of sorts than “Bon voyage and God-speed.” I dismissed it. (Eighteen year olds are extremely gifted in that regard.)

And I left. Nine months later, I came home. A different person. A gestational period of change. I grew up, slightly. I burnt rice, horribly. I gained weight, understandably. And I changed, unavoidably.

I could not be the same. Or at least, I could no longer view the world the way I had before. I lived with children who suffered from Malaria and gun-shot wounds. Men and women in their thirties who looked twice their age. The ravages of survival etched in the many lines on their faces.

I remember.

That was a long time ago. I’ve married, had children, moved. More people are added to my world. A spouse, a child, a neighbor.

And each time, I’m changed.

I remember.

And now? Now, we are on the verge of another monumental word.

Retirement.

My husband is ending a career in law enforcement. We are moving. Saying good-bye. Bon voyage. And I have to remember the past to gain the strength to look toward the future.

Today especially has been stressful. So many unknowns. Will everything work out with the house? Will it close escrow in time? Can I survive living forty minutes from Starbucks? What will our lives look like?

Unanswerable questions that swirl around in my mind like a storm, attempting to destroy whatever it touches.

So, I remember. Monumental has come and gone. I’m still standing. And not alone. A spouse, children, friends, neighbors, colleagues. Familiar faces cross my mind and touch my heart.

I’ll never be the same.

And I remember.