A life well lived. Not just Maya Angelou's

I've been feeling pretty crazy lately.  Yes, more than ever.  Be afraid.  Be very afraid! ;)

In this case, I think I've earned the right to feel crazy.  Four human funerals between friends and family within a 12 month period justifies that, I think.  [There have been animal funerals, as well.]  I am not yet ready to talk about the big one, but here is the most positive one, if a death experience can be a positive experience.  I think it can.  A memorial is supposed to be a celebration of life.  I think I witnessed that.

The passing of Maya Angelou reminded me of a more sane value structure based on people, and we have been blessed to have one of those in our own lives.  I need to back up, though.

When family life got complicated, some new people stepped in to be admin in our main homeschool coop, so I could step down, and they even offered me an early leave with no guilt over the mess of paperwork I handed over.  I received thanks for what I had done, even as I felt I was backing out prematurely.  A few days later, a beloved aunt died.  I had the freedom to fully enter into celebrating her life and mourning her loss without the guilt of admin responsibilities.  It was such a gift, from both those that I had known a while, and some who I had just gotten to know.  I was so touched!

I cried about our situation in coop.  Yes, I am that scary open person.  I received countless hugs and support and prayers and thoughts and juju - I'll take it all, so long as it's positive.  I shared some of the yarn stash that Aunt Mary had left & was genuinely happy as people came by & thanked me & told me they were thinking of her in her final days.  I smiled watching people select what they would use and knowing that it all would be used, and that more people would think of her in her final days and send positivity her way.  Some stopped and offered words or a hug, and others did not.  I appreciated all of it.

It didn't really feel like Aunt was gone as the family gathered in her home following the funeral.  There were only a couple of the grandkids that are not already adults, but all the grandkids drifted to one room, and my young daughter was so kindly included and humored and enjoyed. . .  I don't know the names of all the people in that generation, as some are so distantly related, but it was a gift to watch M drift in with them & try to fit in and be comfortable.  It was a room full of iPhones, so she grabbed our iPad and joined the fun in her own fashion.

Being and introvert, and the newest family member of my generation (having known the deceased for only 15 years), I sat in a living room next to the grandkids' chosen hangout.  In the room opposite the grandkids sat a very different group, including mostly people of the older generation and my own generation.  It was calming and comforting to listen to them.  There was laughter and sincere interchange.  It was a somber occasion, but there was still significant laughter.  Aunt would have liked that.

In the middle of that, her voice and smile were absent, but *she* didn't feel absent.  Thinking about that, I realized that I sensed her spirit in the hearts and heads of so many in that house.  She was still there.  She will remain for a very long time in a very positive way.  She invested herself in other people.  I hope to be so lucky when I depart.  Even at her funeral, she was inspiring and teaching.  What an example!

A man of our generation who I know little, yet admire from every encounter, had been talking with M when I wasn't in earshot.  He told me his impressions and gently probed for some information.  This is something I am used to, and I was tired, so I did not react ideally at first.  He looked surprised, and we both apologized, but were able to turn the mood of the talk.  His parents were listening and not talking, which made me more self-conscious; I had not met them before.  I ended up telling them a little bit, and he impressed me yet again.  His reaction was to say "That must make you feel_____" and pinpoint where I live.

I don't remember that perfect word, of course, but he nailed it.  He did so kindly.  He really paid attention, and he really saw my daughter in his brief interchange with her.  The more I thought about it, the more he impressed me.  M will shut down when someone notices her differences and reacts even in subtle ways.  She does not want to stick out.  Not only did this man accept her for who she was, but he reacted with acceptance.  She did not feel the need to hide her sparkle.  I can understand why he was chosen by his equally amazing wife.

As we got ready to leave for our long drive home, our aunt's daughters escorted us into her bedroom, where they pulled out a quilt from a stack.  My husband teared up at her handwriting on a note pinned to a quilt with our names on it.  I cried, and could only say, "wow."  M jumped and ran around the house with excitement.  She had left her own memorial for many individuals and chosen which of her brand new quilts she wanted to leave to different people.  It was so touching and perfect.  I cannot imagine where she ever found the time to make so many.  Ours is now on our queen size bed.  Wow.

Since then, I think about her often.  I have chosen to do and say some thing intentionally that I think she would have chosen and said herself.  She remains a good example of how to live life well.  She continues to improve my life and my daughter's, and we were the latest of each respective generation to the party that was her life.  Such quiet power.  Love.

Just a normal summer afternoon musing?

Last weekend, being a long weekend, we were at a slower pace than usual.  A friend was over as we were going about our everyday things.  It gave me a new view of what our "normal" looks like to an outsider who knows us as well as anyone does.

We were discussing wood and bark, and it started because M used one word when she should have used the other one, in my opinion.  Four of us were in the room.  Here's what followed:

M: Aren't wood and bark the same thing?
me: Well, bark is usually the outer layer and the wood comes from the interior layers.
M: Yeah, but they are part of the same tree, and essentially the same.
me:  Maybe at the atomic level.  I'm not sure.  However, they are different.  Bark is rougher, for instance.
our visitor: crooked smile starts getting bigger as she appears to be watching a ridiculous scene on TV.
M: Doesn't the atomic level determine things like roughness?
me: the DNA of a butterfly and caterpillar are the same, even though they are different.  Maybe it's how they are arranged, I'm not sure.
M:  I think they are the same.
me: Most people refer to bark and wood differently, whether or not it's technically accurate.  Besides, I think bark might float more easily than wood.
the dad:  rolls his eyes and gets up, telling the visitor "welcome to my world."
visitor: "Mmmm hmmmm" in her very attitude-filled tone.
M: Don't the atoms make it float more or less?
me:  I'm not sure.  It's about density.
the dad: Yup, mass and density.
me: We're on summer schedule.  It's something you can look up.

Just an average afternoon of sitting around with no plans in particular.  I'm not sure it would have occurred to me as atypical.  That fact alone makes me laugh, actually.  Hope you had a great holiday weekend and are entering the short week in good spirits.

Yes, we're still alive! Well, most of us. . .

It's been rough for quite a while around here, and I am proud of us for doing as well as we have through an awful number of difficulties.  We have an amazing network of caring friends who are the reason I am not in an institution.  I feel like I'm finally coming out of a fog.

I have intentionally kept this blog vague, and avoided being obviously linked to it.  I think it's time I forget about that.  One of the lessons for me in the last few months is that being myself actually is OK.  No, it's much better than that.  It's invigorating, liberating, courageous, refreshing, frightening, vulnerable, and much more.  My biggest lesson learned over the last few months is that people are more loving than I assume, more supportive than I expect, and being vulnerable with some people can be safe.

Pretty intense for the first post since January, I realize.  Sorry.  Kinda.  No, not really.  I am a scarily intense person.  If you don't like it, you won't like me, and that's OK.  For the first time in my life I am feeling secure in my own skin.  For today.  It will likely change soon, so don't hold me to it!

Morgan is actually awaiting me in heaven.  I used her name instead of my living daughter's, after being hurt deeply by a family we had trusted completely and been wounded by.  My daughter & husband were as hurt as I was.  I was afraid others would do the same, so I used Morgan's name.  The internet is not secure enough that I want to reveal my living daughter's name outright, but I will be honest here and today.

Recently, we did our annual testing, which is a homsechooling requirement in Minnesota.  I finally switched to the Peabody test, which tells me the average grade level M is performing in each subject.  We are almost done with vision therapy, and after two and a half years of homeschooling, I was really looking forward to some guidance about how to plan for our upcoming year, as well as honest insight into how she is progressing.

M has some test anxiety, so she was asking lots of questions.  We tried to explain, but probably didn't do a great job, since it was also our first time using this particular test.  She was scared of failing, which is something that we have never been concerned about, so we're not sure where it originates.  I said, "PLEASE don't get the top score in any are of the test.  I can't handle that yet!  Seriously, you have a lot of time to get through high school!"  We all laughed and slept peacefully the night before the test.

I texted the results to my husband (who was anxious, as well).  "Congratulations!  You have a seventh grader."  She is 9.  We are so proud of her, and yet it's pretty terrifying.  My husband told her he was proud and told her to pick dinner - in or out, and anywhere or anything she wanted.  Perkins, of course!

I listened to most of the testing from the adjoining room.  This sums up my experience:
Tester: Next we're going to do some spelling.
M: What's Spelling?
me: Palm- forehead, followed by an apparent blackout, because I am certain the tester responded, but I cannot recall anything that was said for a while . . .
Test results: M maxed out the Peabody in spelling.  This means she spells as well as the average high school grad.  Without knowing what spelling is.

Overall, she did not graduate yet, LOL!  And thank God for that!  However, we all laughed heartily about spelling.  I guess I should let go of the guilt I had been carrying for ignoring spelling (and some other things) while we tackled vision therapy this year.  It has been a family effort, involving almost daily practice with at home, as well as weekly appointments for a year.  Let's face it, she's ahead of grade level in everything.  Why should anyone care that we haven't actively worked on every subject?  Does it matter that she knew what spelling was if she could spell at an adult level?  I think not.

There have been a lot of family changes in the last year or so.  In early March, a new niece was born.  About 24 hours ago, I found out what her name is.

When I told M she had a new cousin, she did not ask when we would see her.  She knew we would not.  At least not now.  She asked what her name was, and I had to tell her that I didn't know.  She asked if we would send a gift, and I told her "of course."  She picked a gift.  We mailed it addressed to the family.  We received a thank you note.  We still were not told her name in that note, nor did we receive a birth announcement from family that lives about 15 minutes away.

 Yes, this is sad, but knowing her name brings me some peace.  That gives you enough of an idea about how our life has been challenging, I think.

I felt like a bum mother.  I apologized to M again, telling her that I wish I had a more loving, healthy, supportive extended family to give to her.  I simply don't have it.  She said, "Mom!  Family is just a group of people that care about each other and take care of each other.  We have that!"

Yes.  She's right, of course.  And I have been experiencing that over and over in a variety of ways, including a couple of homeschool coops.  Today, I watched a newer homeschooler talk about how cool and different it was in our coop than in the "real world" and realized how right she was.

Backing out of an evening of childcare was part of my day, and I felt bad about it, even though there was some notice and it was the right decision.  I expected disappointment from the mother accompanied by averted eyes & attention from her lunchtime playground companions.

I got none of that.

The mother told me that she had expected it, and that it was fine.  She knows I am very introverted, and she offered to give me some solitude during a time when my husband will be out of town.  All this in one breath.  What a loving and unexpected (by me) response!  Her companions affirmed my self-awareness, as they are also both quite introverted, and talked about how important it is that M is learning about those boundaries at an early age.   It was so . . . peaceful.  Encouraging.  Loving.  Accepting.

I was blown away by the peacefulness and support of the encounter.

As I told my husband about it, I said, "Who does that?  What is that?  It's so cool!"  He smiled sadly at me in a not-at-all-funny way and said without a pause, "that's family."

Yes!  Ouch!  Wow. I really don't get that.  I'm so glad to have it.  I have a lot to learn!

M is SOOOOOOO right.  Family is a group of people working together to improve the lives and experiences of all.  We have that.  Thank you, Lord!