It's amazing how much he has grown and matured in the last two years... in this past year especially. In just another day he will begin first grade. FIRST GRADE!
We have all of his school supplies ready (thanks Oliver's dad!) and he's excited to start school. He will be in a multi-age classroom, something that is somewhat unique to most schools. The first and second graders are together in the same room, learning the same things (almost). The classroom is large, not only with the amount of students, but with space as well. It resembles a coffee shop, something both Oliver and I are greatly familiar with. There are no individual desks. There are tables and no assigned seating. Two teachers who firmly believe in this type of instruction. There is more freedom for each individual student, and yet, when I observed the class last year, nary a student passed a gaze my way. They were focused on the teachers. The room is more of a colony than a structured set of rule followers. Children are allowed to sit where they please, yet learning is a high priority.
Today Oliver received a letter in the mail from a second grader who will be in his class. This boy hand wrote a letter letting Oliver know how much fun a MAC classroom is. I'm excited for his new beginning, and a tad teary-eyed that his days will be spent without me again. Ah... school. It's lovely to watch them grow with slight reminisce of their younger years. He's more mature than I give him credit for. He understands more than I realize. I need to be careful as of recent because he knows and feels more than I expected him to.
He's still a little monkey sponge however. He imitates me, he hears me when I teach him things. This I love about being mother.
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It seems I had forgotten that I was a mother the past month. I had been so preoccupied with personal events in my life, submitting myself to obsession and unhealthy behaviors while my son sat on the bench and I played quarterback, failing miserably in my prestigious position. Having no connection to God, I played God, QB, and coach all at once. Where did it get me? In a whole lotta trouble. It sucked, and sometimes it still sucks. It takes most of my day to get thru the muck, and in the evenings I settle down and reconnect with who I am.
Thank you Kelly for telling me to drag my ass to church. I did just that today. I lay in bed with the covers pulled over my head. At quarter to 9 (service starts at 9) I blew the covers off me and headed out the door. I slept in the same clothes I had on the day before. No makeup. Hair down and scruffy... aka bed head. Heart and arms clenched, the music began (I was on time actually). I refused to sit where I normally do. My MO lately is to isolate, especially in places I don't really want to be with people I can't relate to. Instead of the 4th or 5th row, I sat way in the back. When it came time to greet our neighbors, the part I hate most about church and loath these days, I smiled and said my name. It took all of my energy to turn and face another, to speak my name loud enough, and then to not look at them and say, "I hate you all; just leave me alone and let me sit down."
The music untwisted a part of me. No tears today. Enjoyed parts of each song. Heard lyrics I could relate to. My least favorite pastor preached today. Mostly about rest. But I did catch on to one thing he said. It was something about not giving God our heartbreaks with our boyfriends. About trying to handle that alone. Got it. Got that message.
After service was over I bought the next book for our fall study. I couldn't find my reading glasses and so stopped at a cafe table to dig thru my purse to find them. I glanced up as a pretty woman who sat next to me in church came up. She apologized in advance that I might think she's weird — but I knew exactly what she was going to say. I put my hands to my face and began to cry before she even finished her first sentence.
She said softly, “During the service, I had a strong sense that you were hurting, that you have been crying out to God, asking for help. I hear God. He told me to tell you that He has heard your prayers, and that He is indeed here for you and is healing you.”
Then I sat down and buried my face in my hands. I had made it thru the whole service without tears, and yet this woman bore into my heart and soul. How could she know?
She talked and I said nothing. Everything she said I needed to hear. It was if God had skin on Him. I cried hard, aware that in this cafe, nearly empty, I might be a spectacle to watch. But this church, I knew, has seen a lot of people thru some very difficult times. Maybe my genuine performance was not so odd. I couldn't have cared less tho. I have little control some days. Bucking up is not always my forte.
The pastor was speaking with her husband; she brought them both over. I adore my pastor as I have mentioned in previous posts. He does not meet 1-1 with women however, so this was truly a special moment for me. The three of them prayed for me, laid their hands on me. It felt healing, but it's not like I stood up and proclaimed, "I'm cured!"
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It's now the next day. Last night was the first night I slept thru the night and awoke at 6:30 am with ZERO anxiety. First time in over a month.
Today we met with two of my son's friends from school (which starts tomorrow!). We had a picnic and our boys played. These two ladies in particular are my closest "mom" friends and I was able to share much about what I've been dealing with the past month. They offered their support and devoted friendship. I have a ton of friends and am so glad I have so many people in my life who are here for me.
It's not like every moment in my life is covered. A good friend who I was to spend time with today could not. She told me late yesterday. That was hard but of course I understood. I love her and hold no blame or resentment. Her daughter was very sick. Instead I got on the phone and arranged for the picnic today with the two other mom's and their sons. It all turned out great. No pretending (much). Just staying in the moment.
Of course there were times my mind wandered... I was wondering what, if, who... But those questions, and especially those answers do nothing to move me forward in life. They feed obsessions that do not serve me or my son well.
I'm so lucky to have my boy today. It's not my normal day to have him and I thank God for healing the relationship with my X to the point where we try to serve each other and our son's needs. I'm grateful for his flexibility and for the fact that we are not enemies. Do I like what happened in my marriage or what he did? No! But I can't hold myself prisoner to hate and resentment. I've moved on from that, and if Kelly (blog reader) is right, perhaps it's true I can move on from this. As challenging as it is. (Kelly, and all other readers, please know this is actually HARDER than when my x-husband left. It's harder in a different way, and I fell down in a different way. The point is, now, I am working very hard to stand back up and become the woman I once was only a few months back, but maybe even better.)
Thanks for reading... please leave a comment if you care to. Your support truly does help.