Christmas Catalogs and Margaritas...

This blog started as a reflection of how I spent my late daughter’s birthday, but as I started to write it, it transitioned. 

I’m not going to lie—I’ve been struggling lately. Church is the last place I want to be, even though I really like it. I don’t want to hug, or smile, or act like I’m fine; in fact, if you want the God-honest truth, what I really want is a night out with some girlfriends and some margaritas (and a cab). It’s not like me to want a drink…okay, multiple drinks…But lately, it’s not too far from my mind. I’m feeling overwhelmed, and a little misunderstood by those closest to me. It’s okay—they don’t have to understand me. I feel more alone than I should, but that’s because I’m not telling key people how I really feel. And it’s not like I want to dissolve into tears or anything (I can neither confirm nor deny that’s happened over the past few days) I don’t WANT to share how I feel…I want to hide in a corner—but I can’t, and that’s a good thing.

I have work to do…

And I have smiles waiting for me when I get home, that make me get my game face on and do what needs to be done.

After all—I’m a woman. Isn’t that what we always do?

The world can fall apart, but we will put our makeup on, and put our high heels forward. Our backs hurt; our feet hurt, and our head is splitting, but darn it, our kids are clean, the laundry’s done, and there’s money in the checking account (although Lord knows it’s not there for long). 

I have so much respect for my mother—she did it all, and she had to feel like she was stuck in the middle of a tornado.

I know I do.

How it’s possible, to have such joy co-habitating in my heart with such temporary sadness, I don’t know. I know that I don’t focus on the sad parts too much; going to the cemetery on Hannah’s birthday was certainly a help, but it’s not easy.

There is more in this world that tells you you’re a terrible parent, than tells you you’re a wonderful parent…which just means there’s more in this world for me to ignore, because I’m doing my best.

Looking at the toy catalogs for this this year, I looked at Bug and shook my head: How in the world can I possibly give him his best life, when I know good and darn well that he’s going to grow up on Aldis and Target?!?

For just a few minutes, the room started to spin; then my Mama put me back in my place.

No, I can’t afford the fancy diapers or the name-brand formula.

Yes, I have mostly-second-hand cloth diapers that I use in conjunction with off-brand diapers and off-brand formula on my child that is dressed in clothes from Goodwill (as am I).

Yes, I drive a 15-year old car that has more cosmetic damage than I do.

No, I don’t go to fancy restaurants or even to the movies.

No, I don’t have cable.

My child will not be growing up with a Playstation or his own smartphone.  Our world is not one of organic, grass-fed Whole Foods steaks…Our world is one of Wal-Mart discounts and coupons, and maybe if you’re lucky, breakfast at Bread Co. or lunch at Crazy Bowls ($6! Yeah!).

As much as I want to give my son the world on a silver platter, it’s going to be a simple life..  

He’s not the only one that has to be happy with that—I have to be happy with that. Not only do I have to be happy with that; I have to be at peace with knowing that I am a good parent even though my child doesn’t have his own iPad (Heck, I don’t even have my own iPad! Full disclaimer: I have a Nook.). I’m not giving a toddler a $600 piece of electronic equipment to call his own, and I am not afraid to sit here and call that foolishness. JD is going to have to be happy with the toys that he has, and I am going to have to be happy believing that it’s not the toys that help him learn; it’s my interaction with him.

My fear is that our not buying him the coolest electronic toys will cause him to not be as technologically advanced as other kids his age, when he starts school…but I have to think that those kids that are exposed to that level of neuro-affecting electronics are probably at a higher risk of ADHD, so I’m probably on the right track.

I have to take every fear I have—even the silly ones—and give them to the Lord. I have to counter the fears and falsehoods with His truth and His reality. I have to take the sad moments, the moments when I look at our life with JD, and wonder how Hannah would have changed it, and I have to give those moments to Him before they wreck my world. I can’t sit here and dwell on them, because then I will become just as stuck as Lot’s wife.

I have to trust God.

I have to trust Him with everything from our dwindling bank accounts, to JD’s education and future, to my marriage, my car, and my job. I have to do what I do for Him, because I trust Him to take it and make it into something beautiful.

This is not the life I planned for me, but this is the life that I have.

And this is the life that I love.

I’m in a rough patch (man, those margaritas sound awesome), and even at its worst, I know it’s only temporary. I’ll be on the other side of it soon.

But even if it takes me a while to cross through, I know it will be okay.

God is still God; I am still not; and the world is so much better for that…

When I walk in my front door, I know that a few things will happen, no matter how awful the moment/day/week: JD will smile his beautiful, teething grin when he sees me. The dog will bounce and wag her tail, in a showing of total happiness.

The roof will still be over our heads, and the lights will still be on; there will still be food in the refrigerator, and the fact that it’s not name-brand organic food will not stop it from being delicious.

My son will drink his non-name-brand formula, and my dog will eat her name-brand dog food; I will wear my 5 year-old nightgown and drink water instead of wine.

We’ll watch Netflix  instead of cable, and we’ll enjoy one of the few expenses we  haven’t cut: wi-fi. We’ll talk about our day, and we’ll chase our son, and when we go to bed, we’ll thank the Lord that we’ve survived another work week.

And in my home that will never keep up with the Jones,’ we will fall asleep in a house that is rooted in Christ, and is full of love.

That, my friends, is happiness.