College- Already?!?

It seems like yesterday I brought my first born home from the hospital, but really it was over 17 years ago.  Now he is a senior in high school, waiting on news if he has been accepted into his college of choice.  (We will find out December 15.)

I feel in some ways I am just hitting my stride as a mom.  My guys are at a great independent stage. They can talk rationally and logically about an assortment of topics. The games we play now involve more that cars, trucks , and sound effects! They only require a spot check before leaving the house to make sure the shirt matches the shorts/pants and socks are the right color. They are even doing their own laundry on occasion.

The path of parenthood is longer behind me than in front of me.  My oldest heads to college next year.  My time left to influence him while at home is nearing the finish line.  His younger brother is finally realizing what this college thing will mean for him.  There goes his buddy! And three years after his brother, he will leave the nest for his own college experience.

I am not sure I am ready for this stage of life - emptying the nest.  There is so much comfort and security with all my chicks within my walls.  Knowing where they are and what they are doing.  Knowing if they need something, I can swoop in and help them out.

On the other hand, I wouldn’t want them to miss out on the life I have now.  If they don’t leave the nest, they will not get to experience kids of their own. The joy of having a place to call your own.  Going out on your own adventures and figuring out exactly what you want out of life. I want that for them, so they must fly.

As their parents, we will always cheer them on. We will always help when we should and can. We will hopefully know when to let them handle stuff on their own. We will watch them stumble and succeed.

And when they come home for a visit, we will play games and maybe even break out the legos that I will never throw away.

Do I deserve this?

”I don’t deserve this!”

Usually when this statement is uttered, it is from a star on the big (or small) screen, who has just been dealt a bad hand.  The love of their life has left them. They lost a job. A nasty rumor had foiled a plan they were counting on.

Or maybe it was uttered by a dramatic teen when they didn’t get their way with their parents or they didn’t get invited to “that” party.

But have you ever looked at the opposite side of the “I don’t deserve that” coin.  I have two wonderful boys, a  thoughtful husband who loves me without fail, and an extended family who is supportive and caring. I have a circle of friends I can call on at anytime for just about anything.  I believe God created me, loves me, and saved me.  I have a really good life.

I am not perfect.  I am overweight, a little lazy, slightly addicted to my iPhone and other gadgets, and I am a little self centered.

When I take an honest look at my life - the good, the bad and the ugly- I know truly, I don’t deserve this.  I am not depressed. I am not feeling down in the dumps.  I am feeling blessed beyond measure.  When I look at my boys and how much they have grown, the young men they have become - I am amazed. When I think that I have been joyously married to the man I love for 21 years, I am in wonder. When I think of my church family and all my friends, I am humbled.

For all my mistakes and short comings, my failures and thoughtlessness, my life is incredible.
I don’t deserve it.  I am thankful for all of it.

Rain

It had been a couple of incredibly busy weeks.  For the first time in my life, I was director of our church’s Vacation Bible School.  The week before was hectic with last minute decorating and finalizing those last minute details. The week of VBS was full of early mornings, go go go, and figuring out the forgotten house work of the previous week.

The week after VBS began with Chick-Fil-A deliveries and working the ATA desk.  With only a hour or so between jobs (both of which I truly enjoy), I leaned heavily on my guys for laundry, dinner, and other housework.  The end of the week finished in a three day trip to Virginia and back for my wonderful husband’s company picnic at King’s Dominion amusement park. Six plus hours in the car. Twelve plus hours walking through the park on day 2. Day three was another 6+ hours in the car on the return home.  I’m so glad we did it, but I did pay a price.

On Sunday, I couldn’t sit down without pain shooting through my hip and calf.  Standing wasn’t easy either.  I only found comfort laying down on my side until past noon.  Finally I was able to move around once my muscle relaxed a little.  This morning, the stiffness set back in but passed much quicker.

This evening I am feeling overwhelmed.  Calf and hip are achy. Boys are prepping to leave for a youth group trip. I have deliveries in the mornings and appointments in the afternoons. Then it started to rain.

I’m not talking about a summer sprinkle.  The down pour started and lasted for at least an hour.  I listened as the rain hit the roof and ran down the gutters.  Needing a little fresh air, I stepped out onto our covered deck to hear the rain more clearly.

It was dark. The light from the house making the yard appear even darker. I could just make out the outline of the trees that surround our house. The rain continued to pour down. Then I saw them.  In the midst of the rain and the darkness, or maybe because of them, I spotted the lightening bugs. Fireflies among the leaves, protected from the rain, still blinking and signaling to each other.  If it hadn’t been raining and dark, I wouldn’t have been as surprised to see them.  But because it was dark, the blinking lights stood out. Because of the the pouring rain, the intermittent sparks were unexpected.  Bright spots in a gloomy evening.

Those lightening bugs reminded me that even in the darkest and maybe because of the darkest times, there are moments we can grab on to that bring sparks of joy that during ordinary times we may overlook.

During these past hectic weeks, I grabbed my bright spots.  The week of VBS, a very thoughtful friend gave me a small encouragement gift each day.  The same week as VBS was our 21st wedding anniversary.  My fabulous husband brought home beautiful red roses.  My oldest turned 17 this weekend and as a family we celebrated with an escape room (we made it out with 10 minutes to spare!).  The way we pull together and support each other as a family is one of  the brightest spots I can always cling to when nothing else seems to be going right.

My pace is easing back to “normal”.  I have climbed and conquered the pile of laundry and dinner is being planned ahead of time once more. While my ducks may never be in a row, I’ve at least got them all on the same pond.  When life gets frantic again, and I know it will, I’ll remember my bright spots and look for the new ones, hiding safely amongst the leaves in the dark rain.

Boy do I miss that!

There are so many things we take for granted each and every day.  I don’t even think about the lights coming on with a flick of the switch. Hot water for my tea is available 2 minutes after I hit the go button on my tea kettle, and stays hot for an hour.  Ready when I am.  I never sat and wondered about my living room being warm in the winter and cool in the summer because of the dependable furnace and air conditioner.I don’t think about these things because they just happen.  It just is!

Yesterday was a very blustery day.  The sun was shinning for the first time in several days, but the wind was ferocious.  It didn’t just blow for an hour or two, it howled mightily all day and in to the night. The trees rocked back and forth, dropping weak limbs and branches. In some areas, the trees were not up to the challenge and fell over entirely.  Branches played tag with nearby power lines causing our electricity to flicker off and on several time during the afternoon and evening.

As we all settled into our beds, the lights flickered again. At 10:30 pm, they were done. The wind cheered in triumph! It had finally defeated our small neighborhood of three houses. The celebration continued into the night and was still raging this morning.  Our power was still out.

The heat had not run all night and the bedroom was 56*F.  The bathroom did not light up at the flick of a switch.  The hot water only lasted a few short minutes. Hot water for my usual morning tea was not even an option.  The living room temperature was 54*F! The boys could not do their online schooling because with out power, the WiFi was down.  It was time to find a warm place with electricity and WiFi.

Picking out clothes with a flashlight is not as fun as it may sound, but I think my outfit matched for the most part.  At least I think my socks were brown.  The boys and I headed to Chick-Fil-A due to their abundance of heat, WiFi, and sweet tea.  We arrived there about 8:30 and settled in with a power strip connected to the one outlet available to keep the laptops humming along for the boys’ online schooling.

We got word from a neighbor around noon that the power was back on! So after thanking our friends at Chick-Fil-A for putting us up for the morning, we packed up and went home.  Once there, I started a fire in the fire place to help the furnace bring things up to warm from almost cold.  As the guy settled in to finish school, they realized that the WiFi had not been restored yet. School was put on hold until internet capability returned about two hours later.

I so enjoyed lights brightening a room at the flick on a switch. I was giddy with the prospect of hot water boiling in the electric kettle in two minutes for my hot tea. While the furnace hummed along warming the house, I started a load of laundry, so appreciative of my machine and dryer that allowed me to clean the clothes so easily. After a day with out power, I was taking nothing for granted!

But now, as I sit here and type this on my fully charged gadget, I realize I have lost the appreciation for technology pretty quickly.  Things are doing what they are supposed to be doing and I don’t have to think about it or plan around it not working.  My day is progressing as it should.  No hiccups or surprises.

How often do we treat those around us this way?  When everyone is doing their job like they should we don’t even realize how easy they make our lives. But what happens when someone we depend on, is suddenly no longer there? Maybe they are sick or have moved or simply taken a day off.  You appreciate them for a day when they get back but then things fall back in the rut of “normal”. So take a moment today and let those who you depend on - your kids, your spouse, your parents, a co-worker - and let them know you are thankful they do their job so well, even if their job is just loving you.

Hello. I’m really here.

“No man is an island.” - John Donne

I agree with this statement.  If I am wrong, someone please correct me, I think everyone wants to be seen on some level.  Different people need different levels of attention.  Introverts need much less than their extroverted counterparts. I am sure there are introverts out there who would be happy to go days with out talking to another person. But at some point, even the shyest of introverts needs to be acknowledged, spoken to, confirmed, by a peer.

God calls His people to fellowship with each other, to care for those around them. I believe this was not only to show His love for those in need but also for those doing the caring.  It is good for us to not be so consumed by our own lives that we cannot see where others are reaching out.

Even the homeless form communities. It may not be a friendly place but at least they may get a nod of acknowledgement from someone in the same boat they are in.  Someone else confirming they are alive and they exist. My heart breaks for those who beg on the street corners, but each clink of a coin in the bottom of their cup, each eye to eye contact is a way of saying “I see you.  You are here.”

Most of us receive that confirmation everyday. From the moment we are born our parents, family, friends, teachers, etc., show us love and guidance.  Beginning around high school, we strive to standout.  We want confirmation that we are special, different, loved for who we are.  We want to be seen, acknowledged, confirmed, no matter how different, needy, confident, we may be.  Let us know you see us.  We exist in your world, even if it is on the edges.

I have to say I have been struggling with this lately.  I have no doubt I am loved.  My husband spoils me.  God has blessed my life with two wonderful sons.  I have friends I can count on.  But there have been times lately that I have been ignored, forgotten, and taken for granted.  I saw a post on Facebook that said, “I’m sorry the middle of my sentence interrupted the beginning of yours!” I have repeated this in my thoughts many times.  At one point I just quit talking and no one even noticed.  Ouch! Chores I have asked to be completed take two days because “Sorry Mom, I forgot.” Or “I didn’t hear you ask.” even though they respond “Okay” when they were first asked.  Having to ask two or three times, makes me feel like I don’t matter or the task is not important enough until that third request.
Like I said, I know I am loved, and these things come in waves.  Next week could be wonderful. Fingers crossed!

I have also experienced this feeling of non-importance outside the house.  Recently, I have come to the conclusion that I don’t matter to someone I had considered a friend.  I thought I meant something to this person, but after months of not being greeted and feeling like I am forcing unwanted conversations, I am done.  I will continue to say hello and I will always be nice and polite, but I will not seek them out for advice, I will not start conversations.  I will not bother them any longer.  I will grieve the lost friendship and if they ever want to start one up again, I will be there. But it will be up to them. This hurts.  I am not acknowledged in their world, and our worlds intersect a lot.

This experience has made me more aware.  I make more of an effort now to make time for my close friends.  I connect with those around me a little more often with at least a text or maybe even a phone call just to hear their voice.  I am trying to listen better when people talk to me so I can follow up on a care or concern when I see them again.  In church, if I see a friend sitting alone, I greet them with eye contact, a wave, and a quick “Good Morning” if I don’t have time to actually go over and chat for a minute or two.  This spring and summer as my family walks through the streets of Pittsburgh as wwe head for a Pirates game, I will have my pockets filled with snack items to hand to those who have fallen on hard times.  They may be homeless, but I will acknowledge them because I know how it feels to be ignored.

What is “Normal?”

After the holidays, as people put away their Christmas decorations, I heard several friends and family remark, “It’s so nice to get back to our regular routine. You know, to get back to normal.”

While I do understand the regular routine of getting back to school and activities after a long Christmas break, what is normal? For some it might be an activity every night of the week and three on the weekends. For others it might be, nothing in the evenings during the week,  but gone from home for trips every weekend.  For still others it may mean, working nights and taking care of your kids during the day.

Why do we all want “normal” so much? Why do we want to be just like everyone else, but better at it?  Why can we define what is normal for us and be happy with that with out comparing it to everyone else?

In our house, it is normal to attend karate classes two or three times a week.  We attend church to praise God on Sundays. My boys go to youth group on Thursdays.  They hang out with their friends, and do schoolwork.  We play cards or board games sometimes in the evenings and can often be found reading books.  In the summer, we enjoy riding bikes, boating, and I love geocaching.  That is our normal and we are happy with it.

What would it take for you to be happy and content with your definition of normal?

What’s in a name?

I have been called many names, some good, some not so good.  In karate class, whether or not I am teaching or taking the class, I am referred to as “Ma’am” or “Mrs. B”.  My husband will occasionally use terms of endearment - “Honey”, “Dear”.  My two sons call me “Mom”.  By the majority of people- friends, family, peers, call me “Becky”.

I have been married for over 20 years.  I haven’t been a “Miss” for a long time.  I do realize it is a common thing (especially in the South) for kids to call friends of their parents “Miss ____ “ what ever the person’s first name might be regardless of that woman’s marital status.  I’m not a fan of that unless the adult has said to call her by that title.  Plus, I don’t live in the South. To me, this ignores part of who I am.  I am not “Miss Becky” anymore.  I love being introduced as “Mrs. Buriok” to new acquaintances.  Within a few minutes I will ask them to call me “Becky”, but right out of the gate they understand I am married and happily so. I feel that when someone calls me “Miss Becky”, they are putting themselves in a subservient roll to me.  I do not like being placed in that position.

While my given name is Rebecca, I haven’t been called that in many years.  It was the name used by my parents when I was in big trouble.  You all know what I mean.  When you have done something so wrong the full name must be used to emphasize the severity of your actions and how bad the punishment is going to be. Last week, someone who has only known me for a couple of years wrote me a check for some work I had done for her.  She made the check out to “Rebecca”.  I do realize that in business full names are used for contracts and such.  But this person has never heard me called Rebecca.  It just seemed odd to me.  This same person sent me a text and called me “Miss Becky”.  If you are my peer and we are friends, I’m “Becky”.  If you are a friend of my sons, “Mrs. Buriok” will do unless I have asked you to call me “Becky”.

On this note, how do you correct someone with out coming across as snippy or mean? I easily correct someone the first time I am called the wrong title. But in a text it gets awkward. It is even more awkward if the person continues to ignore your request and uses “Miss Becky” all the time.

So the name you are called, in part, helps define and identify you.  What’s you name?