parenthood – BethSings

Behind the Wheel

Sometime in the last century I got my driver’s license, not because I wanted to but because that’s what teenagers do.

The Summer of 1975 I took a driver’s ed class from the head football coach with two close friends, Patsy and Diane . Every Sunday that Spring, my father would take me to the long dusty roads near the airport to practice, patiently working on my driving skills. By that summer my grandfather had a no frills, white 1963 Ford Fairlane parked in our drive-way. Nothing fancy, just a safe vehicle to get me back and forth to school and rehearsals. Everyone on Lee Avenue was ready for me to get the license…..except ME.

For most teenagers a driver’s license was a sign of freedom, a step closer to adulthood. Maybe because my mother didn’t drive. Maybe because I didn’t understand cars. Whatever the reason, as my November birthday approached I became more nervous and reluctant. My parents encouraged me to take my time with the decision. Finally after the first of the year my father took me for the driving test. I passed with flying colors.

Funny thing. Now I do enjoy driving….especially long distances. It IS freeing.

I’ve been on several long distance journeys this summer….Last week I listened to a 70’s playlist I created several years ago. On it was Fleetwood Mac’s Landslide. The first time I heard that song was around the time I had been struggling with not wanting to get a driver’s license. At the time I didn’t understand the song, at least not in the way I do today.

Driving on this last adventure, listening to the music and lyrics for the first time in a while cleared the cobwebs for some letting go. Sometimes there’s sadness in saying goodbye but this time there wasn’t. This time there was certainty in being behind the wheel with the road ahead and some good memories tucked away for safe keeping.

It’s taken over 40 years to admit it but getting that license wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

I took my love, I took it down
Climbed a mountain and I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills
‘Til the landslide brought it down

Oh, mirror in the sky clouds

What is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above? Me and mother

Can I sail through the changin’ ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’
‘Cause I’ve built my life around you
But time makes you bolder

Even children get older
And I’m getting older, too

Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’
‘Cause I’ve built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I’m getting older, too
Oh, I’m getting older, too

Landslide

Unwritten – Outside the Lines

May. Graduations are bountiful.

On the cusp of marking my 25th graduation at St. Aloysius School I find myself more sentimental than usual at these occasions, feeling both lucky and grateful to be included in the lives of so many students and their families over 33 years of teaching. It’s hard to believe that 40 years ago this week I was lining up between classmates Brad and Joy for similar festivities on the evening of my parents 28th wedding anniversary, wistfully gazing toward the future.

To the class of 2017 from a mother, teacher and fellow traveler from the class of ’77:

Some days will seem incredibly long while the years and decades slip past rather quickly.
If you haven’t discovered it, journeys are sometimes better shared with companions…Form them wisely. That includes yourself.
Be kind. Be grateful.
Money isn’t everything.
Respect yourself and others. Don’t confuse respect with entitlement.
Failures are a part of the journey. You can’t change history, only learn from it.
Never loose your sense of humor. Don’t take yourself too seriously.
Be humble.
Dream big.
Love bigger.

“I hope your dreams take you…to the corners of your smiles, to the highest of your hopes, to the windows of your opportunities, and to the most special places your heart has ever known.” Anonymous

Godspeed

Unwritten-Natasha Bedingfield

An Open Letter to My Son On Turning 30

Thirty years ago today, the final journey toward the reality of motherhood began. My son was still a few days from being born. I had been diagnosed with preeclampsia in early April and put to bed shortly after hoping that the baby would come on his due date, May 11th. On May 28th I was admitted to the hospital to induce labor. Patrick has always arrived on his schedule; he was born Friday, May 30th at 3:50 p.m.

A few thoughts for Patrick. Yeah, I know I’ll see you in a few hours to begin the birthday celebration but in looking through pictures (and not finding some baby pictures) I thought I’d write this. If you’re going to stop reading now, remember that birthdays are only a number. Celebrate them and be grateful. Mother's Day 1986

Other memories will surely fade but I will never forget the moment they placed you in my arms for the first time. That moment and you were both miracles. There was a purpose in my life beyond anything I had ever known. For that I will always be grateful.
As ‘the guinea pig child’, by now you’re well aware I haven’t had all of the answers and still don’t. You’ve learned that if you don’t know something, ask for help. I haven’t always been a good example of that….single mom syndrome.
Life is about discovering who we are by learning…we make mistakes. Try not to blame others for them. Most of the time those others aren’t giving us a second thought and the blame or regret only hurts us. Evaluate then move on.
Travel….see the world, read books, do it with friends, family, go alone. It’s the greatest education there is.
Thirty is a new beginning. . .and there will be lots of new beginnings. Life is chock-full of ups and downs. Don’t linger too long on the mountain tops or wallow too long in the valleys.
Candle for Patrick’s cake since 1987
Surround yourself with good people. Friends and family who are solid, that you can count on. You come from ‘good stock’. Choose wisely.
Take time for you. . .laugh every day.

And always remember..

FullSizeRender (14) — 1989-Patrick, age 3 with Papa Nichols, your great-grandfather

FullSizeRender (16) — Fall 1985, right after I found out I was pregnant with you.

FullSizeRender (15) — Patrick’s 5th birthday

…I love you forever…

Scavenger Hunt

Creativity is a scavenger hunt. Elizabeth Gilbert

I dictated this installment in my head numerous times over the last weeks: driving to the theater, driving to my hometown, to my son’s house, on the return trip to Baton Rouge. With each drive I reworked the story. I knew once I sat at the computer the story, the music and photos would change. I like to drive, especially in the spring…new life, hope. The journey this month has been, as Elizabeth Gilbert so eloquently states, a scavenger hunt.

For years I had each holiday planned down to ‘soup and nuts’. Looking back, it was an occupational hazard working for a church and wanting a nice holiday for my two children. Passion for both. Loved both. Until I walked away and I realized that only people love back—for some, unconditional love is difficult. Rules, stipulations. SPARKLE

On Good Friday I ran into my long-time colleague and friend. After being a part of ‘the club’ do I miss it? In the four years since I’ve left we’ve returned to the support we had for one another in the beginning of our professional life. I had missed that. We had both become so passionate about what we were doing neither could see the forest for the trees. It happens in work. It happens in life.

One of my favorite high school teachers, Mr. Russ Harding, taught American History. He was a challenging teacher. I sat on the front row absorbing every word, imaging I would major in history then go to law school. He said that history was an insight into the future. We can’t change it, but it can change us. I believe that. Music was always my first love but rarely a week goes by that I don’t quote Mr. Harding: you can’t change history but you can learn from it.

Boyfriend Band Two weeks ago I was preparing for warm-up before a performance, playing with the Timehop app on my phone and saw a picture of myself from five years ago compared to today. History. Thinking about what has transpired over these years, my head started spinning.

Five years ago I was very comfortable but not necessarily content. In the rearview mirror comfort was beginning to feel complacent. Yes, I had a circle of friends and family. Five years ago I was planning to travel to a foreign country alone…in fact, I’ve traveled a lot in these years. I’ve seen both of my children settle in as adults. I’ve reconnect with old friends, resigned from a job I had for over two decades. Interviewed. Rediscover photography. Sang new songs and rediscovered old ones. I conducted an orchestra again. I embraced theater again and she embraced me. I developed a young musicians program for the local theater, collaborated and helped form a Composer’s Residency. . . and finally started finding a healthier me. Timehop

A few years back, when my kids were younger, when I was younger, there were confusing days….ones of discernment: financial…professional…personal… I found myself alone in a dark church one evening. One of the dear Sisters came walking through, sat behind me, put her hand on my shoulder, with her thick Spanish accent said: “Beth, you are a creative person. God has so much in store for you. Listen. Look. Find the creativity within you.” Then she added her signature. God is crazy about you. . .That conversation stuck with me. Frankly, I was embarrassed to be found there crying. In my mind, I was supposed to have the answers. Mothers and teachers always do. That night I realized that the kingdom is bigger than Stuart Avenue and that a scavenger hunt might be possible. My enthusiasm and courage had gotten me through…it wasn’t going to leave me when I needed it most.

Velveteen Rabbit

Last Saturday I texted my oldest friend Leslie before heading to north Louisiana. “You got a hot second”? Monroe had a terrible flood March 9th. She’s been packing up her mother’s house. Her son’s house flooded too. So many houses flooded the streets reminded me of post-Katrina. Monroe High Water I helped for a few hours to pack her mom’s house so they could begin the sheet rock and mildew removal. On the way out of town I was heading to the cemetery to visit the family plot but stopped. . . the water on the Ouachita River was so high.

I decided to stop at the River and skip the cemetery this trip then drove on to Ruston to start the holiday with my son. My parents and grandparents were masters at scavenger hunts. Like the women on Easter morning, I would be looking for something that “wasn’t there”. They have risen! Easter 2016 Paschal Lamb

History. Present. Future.

The Velveteen Rabbit was a childhood favorite. He ‘became real’ by going on his own scavenger hunt.

Boyfriend Angel Happy hunting!

The World So Wide

It’s no use going back to yesterday because I was a different person then. Lewis Carroll~Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

I’m not much of a television watcher but January has traditionally become my time to ‘hunker down’ with Netflix, revisit a handful of television shows……Gilmore Girls. Bewitched. Andy Griffith. Mary Tyler Moore. The West Wing. Some had better acting and writing than others but the common thread weaving all of them together was community. Characters were supportive and rarely unkind or hurtful to one another. My idealism is showing.

It seems easy today for some people to say petty, unnecessary things, abuse social media. Why is it much easier for humans to wrap themselves around problems, negativity and blaming rather than around joy? Why is it easier to point out differences than embrace what makes us unique or see the common ground. The week had been complicated.

Having an early morning breakfast with a friend yesterday, I recalled the grieving I went through several years ago. Not in the traditional sense like when someone dies but in the crazy, unconventional way that parents, especially mothers can understand. . . when your children leave home. It’s like when a team filled with seniors, lead by a dedicated coach wins the play-offs; the coach is left to rebuild or choose to move on. A bittersweet feeling. Children are never meant to stay in one place….I have discovered, neither are we. None of us are ‘place keepers’.

As idyllic as Mayberry or Stars Hollow appeared to be, I wasn’t cut out for that life. We’re not intended to live our parents lives or even the lives of our childhoods. As a single mom, my children and I created our own traditions and defined family using our own lexicon—a new normal with just the three of us, embracing others into our family along the way . Single moms and their families learn to depend on and take care of each other while instilling independence in our children. It’s a balancing act in the best sense. My children are living proof.

When my mother asked “Are you a person of fear or a person of faith?” she was teaching me that a person of character will have many moments in their life. Decision making. Joy. Sorrow. Betrayal. Misunderstanding. Leave-takings. Homecomings. Finances.Hormones. Aging. It’s our job to embrace and find peace in them ALL.

On New Year’s Day 2011 I walked a labyrinth under a beautiful sky filled with stars. Under the stars that same winter my daughter was in her third year of undergraduate school studying in Prague, my son was in his mid-20’s working his way up the corporate ladder. The steps we all took that year were adventure-filled marked with enthusiasm. We were miles apart yet connected. It had seemed like such a short journey from infancy to adulthood for them. That night at the beginning of a new year, I resolved to start on a path of self-discovery. I’ll always be their mother but the time had come to find an adult self apart from being a parent. Along this new journey I’ve had the time to nurture my own interests and career, travel, to reacquaint with friends from childhood, college and beyond who had been on adventures of their own—building careers and families. I’ve explored and discerned. Some choices were great, some not so great but they were mine.

Twenty-six years ago this week, with two small children and the promise of a future we moved to Baton Rouge to begin a new life. In four months my son will be the same age I was then. Ironically, last week some dear friends who have lived in Baton Rouge for these same twenty-five years revealed they will be moving.

We aren’t meant to stay put but to move forward. Have no fear….of the movement or of time….The world’s so wide. Enjoy the ride!

These Are That Day

And how could we endure to live and let time pass if we were always crying for one day or one year to come back–if we did not know that every day in a life fills the whole life with expectation and memory and that these are that day?
C. S. Lewis

I’ve started this one more than once. Some in my head, in traffic. Some lying in bed—early morning, late at night. Walking to work. In the shower. Finally at the computer.

Like the proverbial light bulb, something hit me.

Expecting. Anticipating. Waiting Counting days. Whether we use candles, games or in the silence of our hearts.

Waiting for….a miracle.

Fifty-six years ago tonight my parents had been playing a waiting game. The eight years between my brother’s birth and my adoption. My uncle’s untimely death. Ordinary days. Extraordinary days. Wondering, waiting, hoping and praying. ….every day in a life fills the whole life with expectation….My family were such people.

A drive to Shreveport, a family is changed. I was changed. Everything is changed…

by love….

by the gift of patient waiting.

Over these December weeks I’ve focused on giving of self rather than something that can be wrapped and tied with a bow. My parents’ ninety mile journey that December was such a selfless act….

but others also show such acts…..parents, children, friends, strangers.

Last weekend, the A Capella caroling group I sing with had the opportunity to sing for the residents of one of our local retirement communities. It was a lovely morning singing carols and Hanukkah songs as well as celebrating the 97th birthday of one of the long-time arts supporters. As we were wrapping up someone tapped me on the shoulder, asking if one of us could sing a carol in his mother’s room. We all went.

Voices of all ages filling a room. A son gently holding and caressing a hand that had once cradled him…

Silent Night. Holy Night. Sleep in heavenly peace.

…..every day in a life fills the whole life with expectation and memory and that these are that day……

Connection. Gift. Selfless……Love’s pure light.

My take-away is this: miracles aren’t the same as magic.

Miracles are found in ordinary things like oil or a baby, a song you’ve sung thousands of times, sharing time with family and friends. The gift, at least for me this year, is to remember how extraordinary ordinary is….then to wait for it…

in gratitude….. for each day…

Sparkle

It’s been more than a month since the last blog. In these last weeks my daughter and youngest child received her Master’s degree. Tomorrow my son celebrates his twenty-ninth birthday. These words and photos come with thought. T wenty-five. Twenty-nine years. Maybe a life time.

Several years ago, I arrived at a lonely, uncommon place, at least for me. Feeling obsolete. I had always been keenly aware of others needs: daughter, wife, mother, educator. Hormones aside, it hit me that May day that life was evolving into something different and very quickly. I began searching for a different place, a new voice. Today on the cusp of my son’s birthday I feel anything but challenged. Joy. Pride in what has been accomplished by them, I suppose in myself for seeing them into adulthood and certainly grateful to the many who have supported and loved our family along the way. It takes more than a village…

It’s natural for my thoughts to have drifted to my parents during these weeks. Their sacrifices. My children are thoughtful and considerate. Was I appreciative in my twenties?

Mama said, “Darling, don’t make such a drama. A little less thinking, a little more feeling”. I suppose “thinking and feeling” is what middle-aged women do. There wasn’t much time for it when our children were growing up. We were too busy balancing life, spinning plates. Now, at a safe distance, we can Monday morning quarter back but not for long. There are always new adventures waiting.

Do we all have fleeting moments wondering if we’ve become our parents? Mine in this last month was recalling something that my mother used to say: that ‘children’ are never really ours but on loan to us.

Isn’t she/he beautiful, though?
You would have liked her/him
Mama did things no one had done
Mama was funny, Mama was fun

Children and Art – Sunday in the Park with George by Stephen Sondheim

Mama was funny and fun….Life was art.

A favorite quote from Auntie Mame “Life is a banquet and some of the poor fools are starving.”

For Patrick and Sarah and all of our children….

23 Brilliant Life Lesson from Anthony Bourdain

Here’s to parents and children. Both continually growing.

You would have liked her
Honey, I’m wrong
You would have loved her
Mama enjoyed things
Mama was smart
See how she shimmers?
I mean, from the heart

Parents and children. Both works of art. Shimmer. Sparkle.