It looks so much like the place I used to call "home" in Oklahoma. The yard just outside my study window peers in at me as I sit at my computer, preparing myself for the list of "To Do's" for the day. Many were the moments of looking out those Oklahoma windows, simply sitting and thinking. Same thing happens here, in NC, by-the-way. It's who I am. Who I want to be. The first thing my eyes always went to (and still does), were/are the trees lining the roadway. I've always loved trees.
Although there are stark similarities, it's really not like "home" much at all. Even the culture...especially the culture, is different here. Out my window here, I see two trees lining our street, the same as was in OK...just different. There's a very large Pine Tree that lives close to where we receive our daily mail. and the gynormus Jasmine Bush that has eaten the mail box and needs trimmed back...once again. Just 50 feet South of it, stands a Crepe Myrtle that produces dark pink/purple blossoms in season. But that's here, in NC. In Oklahoma, the two trees were massive Oaks. I've always loved the mighty oak trees. They spoke strength to me. Integrity. Dependability. Honor. Reverence. Respect.
At the old homestead, off Hwy. 10, there were trees I loved in our back yard, as well. The apple tree being one of them, because the blossoms it produced at the beginning of Spring, always announced it was time for all vegetation to now grow, after a long, cold, winter. It called for the production of edible things. Then in late Summer/early Fall, we got to enjoy the fruit from its branches. Neighbors would come over to fill a bag or two, so they wouldn't rot on the tree, and for the nutrition they brought to their own families. Our family was too small to eat all this tree produced, so we shared.
As I look out this early morning, the snow I had hoped to see, now covers the ground...but as beautiful as it is, my mind takes me back to the front yard of years gone by. The yard where our children swung on the play set their daddy had built for them when our oldest was preparing to turn 4, and our youngest had barely turned 2. It was a birthday gift, knowing our youngest would also enjoy it. We could imagine years of "together play" and collected memories while watching...as we interacted with them as if we were also so young. I remember when Dennis first began the process. He did all the design work, and the building of that design, all by himself with only a few suggestions from me. Truly. I stayed out of the mans way. Shocking! I know...
It was a simple design. One that wouldn't cost a lot of money (there's always a way), yet had what we perceived to be enough to entertain and make their little hearts happy. Poles would need cemented into deep holes to stabilize the rambunctiousness of two little girls actively playing. It had two swings made from old tires that later got switched out to park-worthy swings because a neighbor read Dennis the riot act for "making those sweet little girls swing on old tires." A ladder was built to gain access to the top of the platform where the girls could just to sit a spell and read, or play make believe, or whatever their creative minds could come up with, until boredom sat in and it was time for some sliding fun. Climb the ladder and slide down to the ground by way of a very waxed up slick slide. Up, down, around and up again. Over and over they played while laughter filled the air around them.
I think the large oak tree that stood so very stately beside the swings tower must have smiled when she saw the girls coming. I know I did...
Dennis added a sand box beneath the tower, just behind the slide. Turned out to be a great little place for the girls to take a break out of the sun and play in the cool sand while Momma fixed some lunch, then joined them for stories and a bite to eat.
There were days when passersby would pull into our driveway and ask permission to take a closer look at the swing set. Some even asked if they could take measurements to replicate it. Dennis always allowed it. I'll never forget the day he decided to tear the swing set down. I struggled with the idea it would no longer be standing so stately in our yard, as the children played on, and around, it. He finally talked me into it. I had to get a grip on the fact the girls were grown and gone. There was no longer any need for it and the yard would look so much bigger without it being there. But it felt as if he was about to take down all my memories that attached themselves to it.
Both our girls had moved to NC, and the swings sat still most days, with only the occasional gust of wind to move them. The fun had been had. And I was much too busy to ever use them myself. The swing set that had been made with love had served its purpose. I had to remind myself that change was necessary. Even important. Crazy...it still hurts to think about that day.
Memories are beautiful things if beautiful days created them. Yet, we can learn from the days that are not quite as beautiful. Still happy. Still secure, just maybe with a bit of "ugh" thrown in the mix. Our home at 64500 E. 100 Rd. provided many such memories. There were days we faced challenges, as well. Not every day was happy. Some days we all felt more stress than what we desired. And it took a lot of years of Dennis and I remaining steadfast in our covenant to love each other. Not giving up on each other. That's what we do, right? Do what we know to do, until things get better. Now that we are older...all of us...that "stick-to-it" remains intact and we are better for it. God has indeed surrounded us with his faithful love.
In the quiet moments of this early morning, reminiscing has been comforting. Looking back has its moments of gratitude, as well. Like when Meg was only 11 years old, a surprise came our way that we weren't prepared for. I am so grateful that God showed us, inspired us, how to create a space for that very unexpected, and very generous gift. I've already written a blog about that, so won't belabor it now. I'll just say that was possibly our biggest "figure it out" challenge ever. Yet we made it work. And it was just what the doctor ordered for that time.
Nor will I ever forget the day we returned home from moving Lindsey to NC. She had cleaned up her room, being the thorough girl she's always been, but didn't take the time to remove the nails that held pictures on the walls, which she apologized for. She was my decorator girl. Our visionary. Every 3 months, her room changed. I was always in awe. Still am. I had gone in the kitchen to start some dinner when I heard his loud, mournful cry coming from the room Lindsey had always claimed as her space...until that day. The space she created from her heart and delft hands was now empty. Only the 4 walls, with more than a few nails in them, was what was left. Yet, one could still feel part of her there. There, but not there. A truly awful feeling.
I went to the room and found Dennis, with hands on knees, bent over crying his eyes out. I don't think I'd ever seen him like that before then, nor since. It was our first born's room, now dismantled, and he had the job of removing all the nails where her pictures once hung. It was a sacred moment. He knew the nails needed to come out, but she had put them there. Oh man....just remembering that day has brought me to tears.
There are other events that have caused extreme crying, as well. For me, anyway. When our Meg decided it was time to fly the coup, was another time it felt as if our hearts were being ripped right out of our chests. One would think life was over for us, even though she hadn't moved to NC...yet. So, still within reach if she needed us. But far enough away to be outside our immediate protection. It's something all parents feel, I'm pretty sure.
The thing is, we were never meant to keep our daughters forever. They were never meant to live with us as adults. We knew that. But those strings got tight as we protected and guided. Short story, we got a bit attached to them, ya know.
Now the girls are women with their own families, making their own memories. Oh, we're still a very large part of their lives, but they do have lives to live outside of mine and their dad's. It's as it should be. They still need us...just not in the same capacity, the same dynamic, as when they were small and becoming who they were designed to be. And now...we live "just down the road" from them. Easy access...should they allow it. 🤣
The years have come and gone, and the memories gathered so many years ago are a treasure to me...especially in the quiet moments of this season of life. So many comforting memories. But, not all memories need to resurface. Some memories I have to just let go of. They don't serve anyone, certainly not me. All families have those, right? Not sure I would believe you if you said you didn't. We all make mistakes we wish we could go back and do over. But even then...would we?
Even those memories had a purpose, I suppose. At least it's what I tell myself. I try to just lay them down because I can't change the past. But I can orchestrate my future, to a degree. I do know the only person I can change is myself. And that's plenty of work.
One last thought:
I can feel myself changing. Crazy, right? Even though I have liked who I was (mostly) over the years of morphing into what I'm still becoming, it feels as if it's all really brand new. Not a do-over. Brand new. Admittedly, it's difficult, on occasion..I still push against some of the changes happening. Yet, nothing worth having is EVER easy. And I have a great chorus of encouragement that comes mainly from those beautiful creatures God gifted us with many years ago. To have and to hold...as long as breath remains.
Forever grateful, here you will find me...in Mary's World.
#lifeissues #godsdesign #quietmoments #oureverchangingworld #ourgirlsourloves
