Now that the other shoe has dropped, do I really like the pair?

Boy, it’s been a crazy couple of weeks! After receiving my job offer, we started stressing about how on earth we would manage to move so far away in such a relatively short time period.  Well, guess we don’t have THAT worry anymore!  Oh, wait, yes, we DO have that worry.  We have to get out of our house possibly by January 14^th. 

Yesterday in my email I received something that was clearly from the Montana State government.  I opened the email, which said nothing, but the attachment was titled “sorryltr.doc.”  So I knew what it was when I opened the attachment.  It was a fairly terse letter stating that I had not been selected for MY job.  Not even a personal letter or phone call.  I can’t even tell anyone what that did to me.  It was…yeah, I can’t even think of the words.  Darryl was across the room at his desk, just finishing a telephone call, and he came over and just held me.  I was too shocked to cry.  I wanted to, though.

Everyone has shared feelings of shock and dismay and “that’s not fair” with us.  This was totally unexpected.  And despite the actual facts of the matter, I keep feeling like it was a personal rejection.   

But I wasn’t rejected.  I was selected as the ONLY person who was qualified for the job.  It appears that because the offer was made to me before any other applications were provided…well, THIS go around, anyway….that my offer was null and void.  Oh, yeah, I have that offer on my desk at home.

I was so eager to be a part of that court family.  I really liked the people, and I knew I would fit right in.  And my husband even went to the court and visited with two of the reporters and the judge who had made the offer.  They all like me.  They all like him.  My certifications put me at the front of the list of prospects.

I’m trying to regroup now, especially after all the ugly things bubbled to the surface.  The things that you only feel justified in saying after you have finally decided to divorce.  There’s a lot of unhappiness in our family regarding things in our day-to-day lives, and, well, now that we’re not caught up in the extreme high and then the extreme low of this experience, all those ugly things are impossible to ignore.

For those of you who take things literally, I’m not really talking about divorce or anything about our foursome at home.  In fact, this has been a refiner’s fire, and guess what?  We are good.  We *like* each other.  Darryl and I are amazing.  Our kids are amazing.  They are going to be amazing adults one day.  Speaking of Darryl, I cannot tell you (there I am again with no words) how much he means to me.  He is truly my rock.  That sounds so trite, but those of you who are as lucky as I know exactly what I mean.

And guess what?  As I was in the process of writing this blog post this afternoon, my cell phone rang.  It was one of the reporters who was most instrumental in getting me before the judge who originally interviewed me.  She said she learned I was not selected when she got my email this morning.  I had written to her and the other two reporters, thanking them for their warm welcome and expressing regret that I would not be joining their family.  She was mortified, and she said the judge who is going to be sworn in on January 7^th has turned out to be not such a nice guy, and now they’re worried for whoever takes the job that was taken from me.  She assured me that it was NOT me.  And there goes the lump in my chest.

Everyone else has been right:  He is in charge of the goings on in my life, and He has something better ahead.  We just have to keep looking.

"The very next day, you gave it away"

A friend suggested the other day that I blog about the experience I’m having regarding a great job for which I applied a few weeks ago.  First, I can’t believe it’s only been a few weeks! 

We have known for a long time that we need to change our circumstances so that we not only have a steady paycheck but health benefits for our family.  My hubby has been trying for some time to get a job that would bring those things to the table, but it has not happened yet.  In the meantime, I have applied for two court reporting officialships in my area (not wanting to move our kids), and I basically bombed both interviews.  It was so hard for my self-esteem to bomb not once but twice.  And then to have to socialize with the very people who interviewed me as well as those people who were chosen instead!  And then to have a rare (for me) mistake explode in my face has left me wary whenever I go to DC for a job.

I get regular updates from Indeed.com with court reporting and related job openings.  One day I saw one for a court in Montana, and it seemed to “speak” to me.  I like the idea of moving back west, close enough to family to be able to go see them (or vice versa) but not so close that we’re bugging each other.  I’ve been to Montana (this particular town, even), and while the snow can be daunting, this location actually has less snow than other parts of the state. 

I ended up being particularly busy for a few days, so I didn’t get a chance to apply for the job until one Saturday.  The job was listed in the JCR, as well.  And right next to it was a job opening in a much smaller location in Montana.  When I clicked on the link for the state, the first job didn’t show up on the site, but this second job was there.  I decided to go ahead and apply for that one.  Darryl called the state and discovered that the job was closing the Monday before Thanksgiving, then the applications would be pored over by HR before the approved ones were forwarded to the judge.  I was surprised to receive a call the day before Thanksgiving.  It was one of the judge’s clerks, requesting a telephone interview time the following Monday.  

I contacted the president of the Montana Court Reporters Association, telling her about my hopes and plans.  There was a great description on their website about living in Helena, enticing people to apply for the job opening.  I was interested to find out whether anyone knew if the job had been filled.

I was just crazy excited/anxious about my telephone call.  I couldn’t help but talk about it.  My Sunday School kids even had to hear about it.  Monday finally came, and I had the phone call.  The judge himself conducted the interview, and it went well, although I was feeling very anxious about some of the details of the job.  There would be some driving involved every week, and I know that part of Montana gets plenty of snow.  I really liked the judge, though.

So we fretted and wondered.  Money isn’t great, lots of variables.  Tuesday night I was home alone because Darryl had taken the kids to Mutual. I did some surfing and found myself on the Indeed.com site. I scrolled about three pages in and was surprised to see the first job was again showing up.  I clicked on the link, assuming it would lead to a dead end.  I was surprised to be sent directly to the state site and to see the job was still there, not to mention it had a job number.  I attached my application and sent it in.  Within two or three minutes, I had an email that was referencing that job, and I assumed it was an auto reply.  Turns out it was from a reporter who works with that same court.  She had been contacted by the MCRA president, who told her that I was interested. She was writing to tell me that the job was still open if I was still interested in applying.

I sent the reporter my résumé, which she walked down to the judge who is retiring.  The next day I heard from the secretary for the judge, asking me to interview with them.  I agreed and interviewed after my job that day.  That two-hour time difference works out well.  The interview was amazing.  I made such a connection with the judge and the senior court reporter who conducted the interview.  I was elated because I knew I had not bombed this one.  The real me was back.  Darryl and I and the kids went to dinner, and I missed a call from the senior court reporter.  She called me first thing Thursday morning to tell me they wanted to offer me the position.  I accepted, and she said they would be sending me an official offer letter in the mail.

Over the weekend we told everyone.  I turned down the second job, for which I was then being asked for references. I contacted the depo firms for whom I work and broke the news, basically giving notice that I’d be done working by Christmas.  We started selling belongings that aren’t worth moving.  My aunt offered frequent flyer miles so Darryl could fly out to Montana to do some house hunting.  I had literally just finished talking with her on Monday, finalizing the purchase of those tickets, when my phone rang.  It was an administrator from the courts, calling to tell me that the judge who hired me didn’t have authorization do so and that the interview process was not conducted properly.  She was sure sorry about the inconvenience (if that’s what you call it), but they had to go through the interview process again.

This came from absolutely nowhere.  I was stunned.  The rest of the day was a total waste. Blessedly, I have been working over the past few years to come to terms with the ups and downs of life and seeking the guidance and understanding my Father in Heaven can give me. And my husband has been amazing.  With his help and the help of some good friends, I’ve been processing this turn of events.  I was finally given a call on Wednesday to reset the interview for Friday afternoon.

In the meantime, I was scheduled to work every day that week.  And every single day canceled except for Thursday’s mock depos (which were fun). So I was more than ready and available for the job interview on Friday.

The telephone interview went well enough, but since it was conducted by the same court administrator who had called me, with the judge and court reporter who had been involved in the first interview and the new judge (my, hopefully, new boss), it was a little weird.  I was asked six “canned” questions, for which I had what I thought were good answers.  I felt I had done my best to sell who I am and what I am about, not just once but twice.  Now the rest is in the Lord’s hands.  Well, people will decide, but I can’t do anything more to influence them, so that means I’ll let the Lord worry about it for me.

Maybe I am so amazing that there was really no likelihood I would not be hired.  Maybe the court administrator found something objectionable about me that the others missed.  If I don’t get this job, I believe that there is SOMEthing out there for our family to do.  And there will be another way to rescue my sagging self-esteem. But it’s going to be a long however-many-days till they call back.  And then what?

Love the One(s) You're With

We had stake conference yesterday. Since Darryl and Kristi and I are in the choir, and since our ward’s choir was invited to sing a number for conference, we had our seats in the choir seats. We sang our song right after the opening prayer, so that means I had the next two hours to sort of look out over the congregation as I listened to the speakers.

First, let me say that the conference was excellent. I don’t think I’m alone in the members of the choir who felt the Spirit as we sang “Balm of Gilead,” and once in that place, it was much easier to hear and to listen to what was truly being said.

Most of my life I have struggled with feeling friendless and alone. In fact, right now we are in a ward and a community in which we have lived over six years. While I have many Facebook friends who are my fellow ward members, and while there are plenty of friendly faces when I go to church on a Sunday, the fact is that I remain feeling isolated. That’s mostly my fault. Between the exhausting work I do , along with the travel required, plus the financial ebb and flow that comes with being self-employed, and then, of course, a family with varied personalities, many of which seem to rub others the wrong way, well, I guess that makes me feel like I should just keep myself safe in my little family and in my little house.

See, there’s the So and So Family that one of my loved ones sent an angry email one day. They’ve never turned me away, but I still feel embarrassed every single time I see them. Then there are the awesome young people whom I’ve had the opportunity for five years to teach about the Scriptures with which we have been blessed. Oh, but many of the older ones have heard the outrageous lies of another of my family members and likely believed them. So it’s embarrassing to talk to them anymore. And then there are the younger ones, still much loved by me, but I’m embarrassed because a younger family member is a bit of a free spirit who doesn’t often apply that vocal filter the rest of us find so handy, so I figure those young people probably don’t like us for that reason.

Then there are the different ecclesiastical leaders, men and women, who are actually allowed to judge us, so I’m sure they do. I mean, it’s their job, right? I’m sure they know when we have struggles with some of the commandments, so it’s embarrassing to be around them or to talk with them. (Disclaimer: Our ward and stake leaders are awesome, and no such feelings I have are because of anything they have said or done.) Because I feel so untalented and so awkward, I never volunteer to serve (other than providing a meal when one is needed, I can DO that), I feel like, “Heck, what would these people ever think to say at MY funeral?” I mean, the most sorrowful part of losing members of one’s church family is that these people are often the unsung heroes who have always been ready, willing, and able to volunteer service and rise above their own weaknesses and make someone else’s life so much better. I know because it has sometimes been my luck to be the recipient of their blessed help.

Okay, this is really not just a whiney blog post (“Woe is me!”) No, this was inspired by the thought that crept into my mind yesterday morning and became so loud that I was surprised that no one else could hear it ringing in my head. I looked out over a filled-to-capacity chapel+cultural hall to see faces that I recognize. Some of the faces belong to people I actually know, ward members or former ward members (our ward split a while back). As I saw a face I recognized but hadn’t seen for a while, my mind filled with things I knew about that face. I saw the children of people I’ve known these past six years and let my mind dwell on memories there. I remember when I lived in a place for nine years and had much the same kind of relationship with my ward members there. Unfortunately, in that place my abusive marriage (which no one really acknowledged was abusive because my then-husband provided a service many of the “leading” families there found useful) finally fell apart. I was there when I met my current husband of almost 16 years, but he was an outsider. Imagine the horror I felt (still feel, in fact) when I realized that almost as a single unit that "family" turned its back on me because of the failure of my marriage. The rumor eventually circulated that Darryl had been the reason, not only for the breakup of my first marriage but the subsequent suicide of that first, violent husband. (FTR, Darryl and I met, coincidentally, on line the day my divorce was final. We lived two hours away from my ex when he took his own life, and I don’t believe he and Darryl had exchanged a single word in a long time, though the last time I had been so blessed, it had been a screaming phone call because my ex was facing consequences not to his liking for his own abuse of his very own children). As usual, I digress.

A few weeks ago an on-line friend formed a group on FB that includes the on-line mutual friends we have had for about 13 years when we “met” on a message board on AOL. We really have missed that camaraderie and love we shared back in those days, and the flood of joy and excitement at the resurrection of a unique place we all could “gather” was a little surprising. And then came the confidences. With all the exposure many of us get through FB, there really isn’t any of the real sharing we long for (what if our kids or husbands or ward members see?!) and no place where we could share the struggles we have. In fact, back in the day of the AOL group, we were much more careful about what we would say because the board was public, and we couldn’t be sure who was seeing our confidences. With this closed group with just our recognized old friends, a real Pandora’s Box of secrets was shared. I’ll bet I wasn’t the only one, as I read these stories, to think, “Oh, I had NO idea!” In my case, and I suspect many of theirs, as well, it wasn’t judgmental so much as it was, “I’m not the only one struggling with this stuff!” And that really opened my eyes to the people whose faces I get to see on a regular basis. We’re all dealing with stuff. Every one of us feels isolated and alone sometimes. Even the really awesome, successful people we all admire. Remember “Richard Cory”?

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
'Good-morning,' and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich - yes, richer than a king -
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

(Edwin Arlington Robinson)

Where I was headed is that I realized how much I love the people around me and their stories. I’m happy for my friends whose kids are graduating high school, heading for (or returning from) missions, heading off to school, getting married. I’m happy for my friends who are transitioning from being parents to the joy of being grandparents. This is like a really good TV series whose writing I don’t always expect, but I keep watching it because I’m invested. The “characters” and their stories matter to me.

And that’s when the thought shouted in my mind: Heavenly Father isn’t concerned (nor should I be) with how much people like me or love me. He wants me to be consumed with loving them. All of them. Regardless of all the stuff I nattered on about a little while ago. I’ve had kids in my various Sunday School classes who have had different issues (Asperger’s, personality stuff), and without fail, as I have figured out what made them tick, I was able to work around those things and truly love them as much as I do my own children. And the reward for me? I love every Sunday School class more than the one before, and I love what I am teaching more every week.

That’s it. We are here not to be loved but to LOVE.

I’m going to try this and see whether I can change the way I feel when I enter the church and see the faces of people I have heretofore imagined held some grievance against me or my family. Seriously, most of them are just awesome, and the only reason I feel any kind of negativity is because I imagine it’s there, and so it’s just bouncing off the short leash right back at me. I do love my ward family. For many reasons, they are practically the only family I have. I will try very hard to love them in spite of my scared-to-death self and appreciate that we are all in this together.

Despite my crippling self-consciousness (for Heaven’s sake, I’ll be 51 in a week!), I seem to escape it when I go to work and deal with strangers and love, really just love the interaction. I need to bring that Tracy with me wherever I go, I think….

Eternal Life - Life in God's Way and in God's Time

I just read my last blog entry and find it hard to believe how much can change in a relatively short period of time. Since then, not only did Aaron return to school, but he successfully graduated and is currently looking for work. He’s at home again, but things are peaceful, at least for now. We were able to keep our car hanging on until we had the money to replace it. Seriously, literally the day the car died, we were in the process of buying another one, so that drama is part of our past. And money, well, guess what? Our landlord declared bankruptcy, and we haven’t paid rent since January, which has made a huge difference. My work has also picked up, so we are feeling very blessed. Coincidence? I think not :D

Now I’m in Washington for my daughter’s wedding/sealing on Friday. Very expensive but very worthwhile venture. Oh, so many feelings. We have been anxiously preparing for this week so that we could participate. And here we are. Well, here *I* are…I mean am. Darryl will be here in a few days. He’s snatching the opportunity to spend time with his family in Utah before coming here to be swept up in the drama of my family. I’m so glad he’s getting the chance to do this. I know that his heart is with his parents, his kids, and grandbabies, and it is a balm to the soul to see them. Or so I hear. I haven’t had that balm yet, but one day I will. I mean, I am sure that I would be welcomed around Darryl’s grandbabies, but I haven’t yet had the chance to do so because I was sick for a few hours the only time any of them were around, so I hid in a bedroom to keep from sharing. And my grandbabies, well….

As 2011 drew to a close, my heart, ever drawing closer to my Heavenly Father, yearned to return to His temple to partake of the Spirit there. It seems ludicrous now to realize that while I was the most distraught, I didn’t seek that place and that amazing Spirit, but that’s how it worked out. And just as any precious prize, I feared that it would somehow be withheld. But that’s not how it happened. The compassion and love of my priesthood leaders were waiting for me to be ready, and ready I was. And am.

Friday was a bit of a nightmare, as I had expected, although I am pleased to say that I suffered it all with good grace. 19+ years as a court reporter has taught me that helpful skill. Most of the day was spent in a flying tin can, filled to capacity, hungry and tired. But when I landed in Pasco, Washington, I was soon reunited with my daughter who is getting married this coming Friday.

She’s not the same person I knew. I haven’t seen her in over a year and a half, and our parting was heart rending. Now she’s a young lady who has found love, who feels supported and loved by that love. Much has happened to each of us in the intervening months, and her sneaking up behind me in the airport and putting her arms around me soothed my heart more than she probably knows. I have finally come to understand…or maybe I’m still learning it and haven’t completely fathomed it…what it really means to be an Eternal Family.

I have a friend who has a large family of children, each of whom has followed the hoped-for path of going on to church-owned universities, missions, and temple marriage. I know more about her life to realize that, of course, her life is not perfect and contains many sad and/or fearful moments, but how I have envied her the path her children have chosen. Some of mine have chosen more scenic routes. Some have chosen the path I’d hoped but chose not to take me along. Some are still wandering.

But yesterday I truly glimpsed it, that Eternal Family thingy. I watched a daughter receive her own endowments, with my mother sitting on her other side, three generations of one family united for those few hours in a holy sacrament. I am sure that both my dad and my daughter’s dad were seated nearby watching and rejoicing in that experience with us.

When we initially entered the temple yesterday, I walked about five feet in, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by the Spirit, stronger than I have felt in a long time. I fully expected to see it, as well. And I realize that that’s what it’s supposed to be…and one day WILL be like. Holy and sacred bonds are formed within those walls, and Heavenly Father is most certainly not an absentee Father.

As I told my bishop the other day, as he interviewed me before I received my temple recommend, I don’t know that my entire family will ever be united again in THIS life, but I have faith that it will be at least in the next. I’m trying to teach those who will listen how important it is to love and forgive and forgive and forgive and love, especially those who hurt us or abuse us or annoy us. It is important to see these people with an Eternal perspective, to see them as the Heavenly beings they once were and one day will be again. Yes, even those for whom that picture is most obscured.

Every day I try to get better at something, be a little more patient, a little more kind, a little more empathetic, and I am beginning to feel a swelling in my soul that seems to make those efforts even easier and more desirable.

I know these things are true. I feel as though I have been given a very special gift to see things very clearly, and I am going to keep my eyes…and heart…open so I don’t miss a thing!

What do YOU do to help you cope with stress? Some people turn to addictions (drugs, alcohol, food, sex), some people turn to games (WoW, anyone?). Yesterday was one of the toughest days I’ve ever experienced. It was tough because so many things seemed to happen at once. You know, those times when you look up and say, “Seriously?” My hubby went downstairs and started writing e-mail. He told me that when he’s stressing, he needs to write. He’s such a good writer, so that can be a good thing, for sure. It only becomes a problem when what he’s writing is an e-mail, a not-so-nice e-mail, and he hits send. Luckily, this was not one of those times.

So what about me? I’ve always known that when I feel particularly stressed or upset, I need to get into the shower. I’ve done that for years. I may be cold or feel dirty, but it’s mostly whatever emotional need that is filled when I’m showering. Also, like most women, one of the things I end up doing, especially when I’m angry, is clean the house. If only that was a more effective tool: I could have a clean house 24/7! Alas, I’m on to that one, so it’s not so good anymore. Last night, though, I felt completely helpless. Where do you go and what do you do when there is nowhere to go and nothing that can be done?

I spent a little bit of time in our bedroom, after the shower, pondering and wondering if there was anything we could try (it’s the next day, and mostly nothing has been addressed). Before long, I realized that I was staring at the dresser next to my side of the bed, thinking of ways to write different words in steno. I was making up briefs! It brought me a small amount of comfort. THAT I could control. It was freeing, just for a few minutes, and that’s what I needed.

As for the stressors, here they are: First, Aaron texted me to say he had “had it” with his school. That was worrisome, and I tried to talk to him via text. Next thing I know, he’s telling me that they said he has to leave for a few days. Meanwhile, Darryl is also texting me to tell me the same thing. Later I learned that the school had had a conference call with Darryl and Aaron, Aaron’s counselor and teacher, and they described an incident that had occurred with another student. The decision was that the board needs to meet Thursday and decide what’s to be done with Aaron. In the meantime, he can’t be there.

Next, though, was the fact that we are down to our very last $18, and that’s if we “borrow” from Scott and Kristina’s practice jars (long story), we have very little gas in the car, and I have to drive to Northern Virginia for a job on Tuesday, and we don’t know how we can afford that. Compound that with the fact that a new, awful-looking “leak” has appeared on the driveway under our car. Something has gushed out, but we’re not certain what it is. When Darryl came to the train station to get me yesterday, the car was making a loud rattling noise when he would turn, and the car didn’t smell good. That meant, of course, that we had no way to go get Aaron. Later Aaron called to say someone was bringing him home.

We learned more from him and from the gentleman who brought him home about what was going on at school, and that’s going to require some phone calls and fact gathering on Monday. It’s one of those stories that really upset those who care about people who are handicapped and the care given to them by those who are supposedly put in place with specialized skills but fall short. Blessedly for me and for Aaron (especially for Aaron), while Darryl was trying to be a good father and give Aaron the kind of tough love he needs, Darryl was also sensitive to the Spirit, and he heard what he needed to hear and said what he needed to say. Tell me, how can you not be madly in love with a man who loves your children?

Darryl mentioned something that has troubled both of us for a while. Here we are, two talented people (I am a one-trick pony, but he's got so many things he can do and do better than many others), and both of us want to work. We want to support our family. We don't want to be given a handout. Yet here we are, unable to get work, unable to wear ourselves out in the effort to bring our family the monetary blessings we all need. So what else can we do? We have the ability, we have the willingness. Please let us have the opportunity and, more importantly, let us recognize and gratefully grab hold!

Today, Saturday, Aaron is temporarily in our basement (again, poor kid), Darryl and Scott limped over to band practice to give Darryl a little bit of “time off.” Kristina is trying to find someone who can come over. I’m all caught up with my work, my Sunday School lesson is prepared (but will we have a way to church?) I’m glad to have an opportunity to write and to think. I have beautiful music playing and a heater keeping me warm. Aaron and Kristi are entertaining themselves.

As I mentioned, I just spent half an hour or so putting together the finishing touches to my Sunday School lesson. Does the Lord love us or what? Tomorrow’s lesson is about Nephi, a young man who suffered through all kinds of affliction with and sometimes at the hands of his family, but he never stopped believing in his father or, more importantly, in the Lord, who he knew would give him what he needed to do all things the Lord required of him.

I can do this. We can do this. If nothing else, it is making us stronger people and maybe giving someone else the opportunity to take stock of his/her own life and say, “Wow! At least I’m not as bad off as the Barksdales! Their life seems much more difficult than mine!” You’re welcome :D

Turning the Hearts of the Children

Today is January 7, 2012. It’s going to be 65 degrees today. We live in Virginia. Seriously. Of course, despite the warmth and sunshine, it is freezing inside our house, and I can’t believe that I keep wanting to go outside to warm up. In January. Really. Thank you, Al Gore.

There’s been no work since December 22nd. Well, that was the date of the last job I reported. I finished transcribing that job by January 1st. I was supposed to work again this past Thursday, same job as the 22nd, but the case settled (Darn it! I hate it when people settle their disagreements!) I was also scheduled to work the 10th, 11th, and 12th on a hearing in Richmond. Good money and for a firm that pays quickly. Alas, for whatever reason, the hearing was canceled or postponed. Happy new year to me! I’m looking ahead in my calendar and seeing only one job in my near future: I have an all-day deposition in Stafford on Tuesday. Or do I?

The period between Thanksgiving and Christmas was not only ridiculously busy for that time period but for ANY period I’ve worked in my entire career! Great jobs, tons of pages, about 2/3 of which have paid. I didn’t receive any Christmas presents, but we were able to get some nice things for the kids, and that’s what really makes me happy. Okay, I *did* receive a gift of “smelly stuff” from Kristina, along with some fuzzy warm socks. That smelly stuff will last a long time, and the aforementioned cold house makes me sad that my socks can’t be clean EVERY day.

Tomorrow I teach Sunday School, and my lesson is prepared. House is relatively clean. No laundry to do. I know what I’m making for dinner, and it takes about 15 minutes to prepare to put in the oven, and it’s only 12:15 now.

My husband hates it when I’m in a position like this. If he knew what was on my mind, he’d hate it even more! It’s not good for Tracy to have time for reflection. It’s best for me to have so much to do that I can only long for days like today. Now that I’m having one, I sure wonder why I would want to! Usually I write when I feel compelled, whether by inspiration or frustration or heartache, it’s always the same. The words just seem to flow from my brain to my fingers, and I have a hunch that I am breaking my normal 115+ wpm. Other times I have the time to write, I want to write, but I don’t know what I need to write.

Some days I look at myself in the mirror and find it so puzzling to realize that the face I see is 50 years old. It’s not just that I actually don’t look like a 50-year-old woman, but I still feel like I still haven’t started. The bad days are when I look at the face and think I feel 100 years old, and I have nothing to show for it! Right now I’m six months older than my ex was when he died, nine and a half years younger than my dad was when he died. Who knows when it’s over?

Whenever I find myself with some time, I venture over to ancestry.com and dabble in genealogy. Part of it is like a fascinating puzzle. It’s so cool to find individuals and plug them into families. I crave the opportunity to take some of these people with me to the temple and eternally plug them into those same families. Elijah is definitely with me those days because my heart aches, both with joy over my successes and sorrow over the dead ends. And then there’s the things I learn about these people from just their names and dates. Like all the young mothers who lived just long enough to bear my ancestors so that eventually I would be born to bear the ancestors of my future descendants. One of my closer ancestors (mid 1800s to early 1900s) was married four times. He had so many children that I’ll bet he just wore his wives out! In that exercise I not only developed a sense of awe that his second wife, my great-great-great grandmother, who died at the age of 28, was able to bear five living children, but I felt a love and kinship for the two wives who followed her and actually raised those children, including my own great-great grandfather.

Someone posted something on Facebook that made me smile. It was a list of most-often mispronounced English words. One of them was irregardless, which isn’t a word, but it sure gets used a lot. That made me think of an argument my (subsequently) ex-husband was having with my father when we lived with my parents for two months back in 1982. The ex loved to use the word irregardless. In fact, he said a LOT of things wrong, either using wrong words or pronouncing them incorrectly (like Michele and Erica’s friend Allie…pronounced like alley….whose name he ALWAYS pronounced like Ali as in the prizefighter’s last name). We eventually called him Rheto-Rick (behind his back, of course). At any rate, my dad used to pronounce Italian “Eye-talian,” and yet even he knew that irregardless wasn’t a word. So after Rick used the word…again…to dismiss the solid arguments my dad was making, my dad looked at him in disgust and said, “That’s not even a word!” I miss my dad :D

Because I seem to have a case of ADD, my brain started traveling down the “things I miss” road. So here are a few things:
I miss the days of my early childhood where we spent a lot of time getting together with family, mostly my dad’s, but that’s because they lived closer. We also drove down a couple times a year to get together with my mom’s family. I regularly saw most of my cousins till I was about 14, then less and less until we all grew up. That makes me sad. And it makes me sad for my kids, who very rarely see their cousins. Of course, when they DO, it’s a party!

I miss going camping with my family. Sleeping in a tent, swimming in the river, being tied to a rock in Fort Bragg, California, so I wouldn’t fall off the cliff while my parents and grandparents were fishing in the Pacific. I miss lying in the bed of my dad’s pickup as we traveled about four or five hours. My brother and I were comfortably snuggled in warm sleeping bags and had a tarp secured over us (like that would keep us safe!) and had a great time. I kind of miss the imagination of childhood.

I miss my dad. Every day. He was funny and irreverent and rude. I don’t miss all those things about him, but it hurts my heart that he hasn’t seen his grandchildren grow. Well, in the case of some of them, maybe it’s better that way. I mean, he would either chew them out royally or simply stop speaking to them altogether. Of course, there is the very real possibility that if he had still been here, he would have somehow been able to prevent the erosion of our family.

My step-grandfather died of throat cancer. It was a miserable way for such a nice man to go. He made my grandmother happy, and he was really generous. He was an alcoholic, so I guess it’s better for us that he was one of the nice ones. When the funeral home was trying to embalm him, they had real trouble with his chin because that part of him was in such bad shape and just seemed to erode, no matter how careful they tried to be. I bring that up because I think about that all the time. Yeah, it’s just like that.

I miss my brother. The old one. The one who was just another person in the family. He was funny and fun. Until our dad died, he was just my little brother. Then he let his own notions of his role in the family go a little nuts, and hurt and harm ensued. It’s too bad because despite the things I know and the things I hear (I know a lot of people who know him, it turns out), I’ll bet he’s still funny and can be fun.
Did I mention that I miss my dad? I miss being someone’s little girl. I miss how, even though he could drive us all crazy with his prejudices and dislikes, when the day was done, he was a fierce father and grandfather who loved his family.

I miss the innocence of my youth. I slogged through high school, already battling the depression that has been my closest companion for as many years as I can recall. If I hadn’t been so depressed and so afraid, I wonder what I would have done? What would I have become? Who knows? What I *don’t* miss about that innocence is the sense of self-righteousness I didn’t even know I possessed. If I view the people who have come into my life in the ensuing years through the filter of I-have-never-had-a-real-trial-or-real-temptation-in-my-life, it is embarrassing to think how I would have treated them. So there is that consolation :D

Another thing I appreciate now is that I have learned a lot in the 35 years since I joined the LDS church. My early testimony came from the Spirit and hope. Much of that testimony has transitioned to knowledge and better understanding, both of which I appreciate so much. I’ve been teaching Sunday School for four years now, and I love how just reading the scriptures, more familiar now than they were before, opens my understanding m ore and more. I just shake my head when some person who barely understands his or her own religion scoffs at us because, well, obviously, we are members of a cult and are all destined for hell. It’s sort of like a citizen of France trashing Americans based on his being an avid viewer of “The Dukes of Hazzard.”
I will never regret the decision to start court reporting school. It was such a perfect choice for me. I won’t say that I’m, by any means, the best out there, but I am passionate about doing the best *I* can and being an advocate for human beings playing such an important role in keeping the record. I curse the aging body and mind that cause me to struggle, but again, I’m so grateful to have tools I can sharpen and improve along the way.

Last year was rough. 2011 is not a year upon which I will look back with fondness. That said, there have been some quiet joys for which I am eternally grateful. There is the quiet joy of an absence of anger and hate. Most of my adult life, those have been constant residents in my home, despite my efforts to be Pollyanna. Now that they’re gone, I am glad to say “good riddance!” There is the quiet joy of knowing my kids love me and need me. Me. Huge. There is the quiet joy of knowing that the goals of the four of us are neatly aligned. We all want the same things in our home. There is the quiet and fulfilling joy of the love I share with my husband. Without the distraction of trying to be the peacemaker in the family (and failing miserably), I have more patience and desire to understand him and who he is. And why he is that person. And he’s good to me. A life of pain has left me with the most valuable gift of all: Gratitude. I am grateful when I wake until the moment I fall asleep for being treated like I deserve.

Now, back to the weather. While I love a nice 65-degree day, especially in January, it’s been like this all winter. After a really hot summer, it’s disappointing that we aren’t getting the usual cold temperatures, and it’s really sad that we aren’t getting any snow. We don’t need Snowmaggedon, but it sure would be nice to wake up to the surprise of a world covered in white. It would be nice to sit before the fire (it’s too hot to start one now!) and watch TV with the family while it snows outside. I guess that means I’m a real convert to this “all four seasons” thing. I may be ruined :D