I have grand plans to get a LOT of reading done this summer. In between basketball camp, Vacation Bible School, zoo day camp, trips to the pool and oh yeah, making dinner once in a while and trying to manage (notice that eliminate was not the word of choice) Mt. St. Dirtyclothes.
Here are a few of the titles on my list:
Right now, I am reading Love, Greg and Lauren, which is haunting and beautiful and inspiring. It's a compilation of emails written by Greg Manning beginning on 11 September 2001, when his wife Lauren was severely injured as she walked into her building at the World Trade Center. As she stepped into the lobby, the elevator door opened and out exploded a giant fireball, created by burning jet fuel. She was burned over 82 percent of her body. Greg wrote almost daily email missives to keep the many family members, friends and acquaintances who were asking after her updated. It's sometimes hard to read, because it really takes you back to that day. As Greg recounts Lauren's struggle for survival and mentions things that happen during those days, I can feel my gut clench, just like it did back then. I think about how far we have come (or not) since that day, the accomplishments and the losses. Although I'm not finished with it and I don't know how it ends (I am not one of those readers who will read the last page first), it is inspiring to read about and be reminded of how we as a country pulled together in those dark days. I found it by pure chance at the library; we had gone to sign up the little people for the summer reading program and they were gathering up their own summer reading. I was waiting sort of patiently for them to inspect every title on the shelves and glancing at a cart of books to be out back and there it was.
I had just started Best Friends Forever by Jennifer Weiner when I picked up Love, Greg and Lauren, so I decided to set it aside for the time being. I bought BFF and can read it anytime and the other is a library book. I love Jennifer Weiner's books. I started reading her about nine years ago when the middle boy-child was just an itty-bitty. Her books are sort of fluff, chick lit if you will, and yet they're never silly. They address serious topics in a relatable way, and her characters are always people you feel like you know. She's funny and her characters are often self-deprecating, and snark abounds. And just when you think the main character is getting really annoying with the self-deprecating feeling-sorry-for-herself-ness, you get a heartbreaking glimpse of why. She tells a compelling story in an enjoyable and entertaining way, and it's hard to put her books down. It's not necessarily because she writes so suspensefully that you HAVE to know what happens next, it's just that her stories are so fun to read that you don't want it to end.
I have been hearing about The Hunger Games trilogy quite a bit lately and wanted to check it out. I picked up an e-copy of the first book for $5 and I'll start that next. I flipped through it at the store and it looked interesting. It's kind of futuristic but not in a space-agey sort of way, and it's a fascinating look into what could be if we as a human race allow it. I've heard a lot of positive reviews from my reading friends so I'm anxious to see what it's all about. It's not the kind of thing I'd normally pick up, but sometimes those are the best finds of all.
I have on my list some faith reading as well. I really enjoy Max Lucado and I want to read Fearless, as well as When God Whispers Your Name, which I just picked up at the local used bookstore. Outlive Your Life is another one. I don't know how many I will actually get through but I have a long list of his books on my to-do list. One book that has been recommended to me, more than once actually, by my friends is The Passion of Mary Margaret, which is faith fiction and sounds compelling. A few others are Stalking the Divine: Contemplating Faith with the Poor Clares and Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion, both recommended by my friend WriterMommy who always has a great reading list, great perspectives and is an awesome book club organizer, yo! My friend Lynn has been reading and quoting Thomas Merton of late and has gotten me quite curious, so I'm planning to carve out some time for that too.
It sounds like a pretty ambitious reading list for summer. I'm already on it. We have instituted some new rules in the house this year and I'm working on enforcing the old ones to make more time for lying around reading and less time for video games and movies. Not that there's anything wrong with those, in moderation, but books are where it's at. The last couple of nights, after pajamas and teeth-brushing, the boys and I all piled into bed with our books, and they got upset after an hour when I made them stop reading so they could go to bed. I'm digging that.
What's on your summer reading list?
12 June 2011
10 May 2011
Good enough
***I received a complimentary copy of "Good Enough is the New Perfect," by Becky Beaupre Gillespie and Hollee Schwartz Temple from my friends at From Left to Write, and this post was inspired by the book. The views and opinions contained within are 100% my own and not necessarily endorsed by the authors and/or the website.***
A significant number of the women interviewed for this book about creating your own version of work/family balance in your life are, or at least used to be, lawyers. A career in law was a cherished dream I gave up about eleven years ago after the birth of my first child, when I realized that the life I had chosen, and the life that had chosen me, would not permit the single-minded focus I believed a career in law demanded. Law school is three hard years, a lot of time spent arguing hypothetical cases in front of mock juries, and a lot of hours spent in the library looking up precedents and researching case law.
I was 29 when Moe was born, and I'd spent nearly nine years serving in the military, a career choice all in itself. I was at the point in that career where I needed to think about the future: I was already nearly halfway to retirement eligibility. I know, that kind of sounds ridiculous for someone who wasn't even thirty yet, but it had to be considered. I also married a man who travels extensively for work. All the time. Not that he goes away on business now and then, but going away is his business, as an airline pilot. I can count on his being gone for an average of 15 days every month. Yeah, that's half of every month that I'm doing the married-single-mom shuffle. I don't begrudge him this and I don't resent it; I chose it when I chose him. I will, however, cop to some serious envy occasionally, that he sometimes gets entire days off to wander around San Francisco or Seattle or New York City. He gets to sleep a full night, by himself, in linens he didn't have to wash and a bed he didn't have to make. Color me green. But there are lots of up-sides to his work too: when he's not flying, he's home. Like, really home. As in, doesn't have to go to the office or the airport and can therefore log a significant number of mornings getting the boys up and fed and ready for school. He can drive to tee-ball practice and karate lessons, and he does. A lot. He also brought two children with him into our marriage, who were teenagers when we married. While they didn't live with us full-time, they were certainly a big part of our family, and a factor in every decision we made. Suffice it to say, I couldn't make life decisions based solely on what I wanted anymore. So I gave up the idea of going to law school, not being willing to give up so much time and effort that I believed was better spent on my family.
After Moe came Larry, and we were surprised a couple of years after that by Curly's arrival. While they were little, it was all I could do to keep them all dressed and in clean diapers while Captain America was off flying the friendly skies, let alone try to hold down a regular job or manage any kind of classwork at all. I set aside my aspirations and I didn't begrudge my family. I stayed in the military and I forgot about law school. I didn't do it without sadness and regret, and I didn't do it without paying a price, but I did it because I grew up with parents who weren't around and to me, being a good parent has always meant being present, physically and mentally.
I piddled around in college, not knowing what to do since I had taken law off the table. I went part-time, aimlessly, for a lot of years until I figured out something that I could get passionate about, that I loved doing, that I was good at. Finally, finally, 14 years after my first undergrad quarter, I'm graduating with a degree in history. But now, I'm once again at a crossroads, with a decision to make. This time around as I make big decisions, I know something I didn't know before. I know how to carve out space in my life for the things that are important to me, that make me who I am, irrespective of being a wife and a mom. I know more about how and where to draw the line about what I am willing to give up, and what I need to keep. I believe that being a wife and a mom is my vocation. I don't believe that there is anything else I could do that is more important than raising good and decent human beings and being the best partner I can be to Captain America. But while my family may be the most important I ever do or contribute to, it's not the only thing.
I'm poised to reach the point of eligibility for a military retirement in just a few months. That is a huge milestone achievement for me. My degree is another one: I am the only person in my immediate family to attend, let alone graduate from, college. Neither of my parents, nor none of my four siblings ever went. And I'm not done with school: my big decision relates to the possibility of resurrecting a dream that I thought was abandoned. I am seriously considering going to law school; at a point in life when many people are well established in careers, I feel like I'm just starting mine. It's odd to look around at my classmates and realize, without exaggeration, that I could be their mother.
OK, admittedly I'm still learning how to carve out that space. Sometimes I go too far and commit to too many outside activities and need to reel myself back in and reorient myself on my true north, my family. Sometimes I immerse myself a little too much at home, and forget that I do have interests and pursuits and goals that have nothing to do with the care and feeding of my little people. I also know that life happens while you're busy making big plans and I have learned a lot about flexibility and Plan B.
In the book, Hollee and Becky share that the women they interviewed sorted themselves roughly into two groups: the Never Enough's and the Good Enough's, that probably need no further definition. I can think of several examples of each in my circle of friends and acquaintances, and if there's one thing we all have in common, it's that we're all trying to do our best for our families, and for ourselves. There's no checklist, no template; each of our families are different and have different needs and wants. There is no right answer. We're doing the best we can. And that is good enough.
A significant number of the women interviewed for this book about creating your own version of work/family balance in your life are, or at least used to be, lawyers. A career in law was a cherished dream I gave up about eleven years ago after the birth of my first child, when I realized that the life I had chosen, and the life that had chosen me, would not permit the single-minded focus I believed a career in law demanded. Law school is three hard years, a lot of time spent arguing hypothetical cases in front of mock juries, and a lot of hours spent in the library looking up precedents and researching case law.
I was 29 when Moe was born, and I'd spent nearly nine years serving in the military, a career choice all in itself. I was at the point in that career where I needed to think about the future: I was already nearly halfway to retirement eligibility. I know, that kind of sounds ridiculous for someone who wasn't even thirty yet, but it had to be considered. I also married a man who travels extensively for work. All the time. Not that he goes away on business now and then, but going away is his business, as an airline pilot. I can count on his being gone for an average of 15 days every month. Yeah, that's half of every month that I'm doing the married-single-mom shuffle. I don't begrudge him this and I don't resent it; I chose it when I chose him. I will, however, cop to some serious envy occasionally, that he sometimes gets entire days off to wander around San Francisco or Seattle or New York City. He gets to sleep a full night, by himself, in linens he didn't have to wash and a bed he didn't have to make. Color me green. But there are lots of up-sides to his work too: when he's not flying, he's home. Like, really home. As in, doesn't have to go to the office or the airport and can therefore log a significant number of mornings getting the boys up and fed and ready for school. He can drive to tee-ball practice and karate lessons, and he does. A lot. He also brought two children with him into our marriage, who were teenagers when we married. While they didn't live with us full-time, they were certainly a big part of our family, and a factor in every decision we made. Suffice it to say, I couldn't make life decisions based solely on what I wanted anymore. So I gave up the idea of going to law school, not being willing to give up so much time and effort that I believed was better spent on my family.
After Moe came Larry, and we were surprised a couple of years after that by Curly's arrival. While they were little, it was all I could do to keep them all dressed and in clean diapers while Captain America was off flying the friendly skies, let alone try to hold down a regular job or manage any kind of classwork at all. I set aside my aspirations and I didn't begrudge my family. I stayed in the military and I forgot about law school. I didn't do it without sadness and regret, and I didn't do it without paying a price, but I did it because I grew up with parents who weren't around and to me, being a good parent has always meant being present, physically and mentally.
I piddled around in college, not knowing what to do since I had taken law off the table. I went part-time, aimlessly, for a lot of years until I figured out something that I could get passionate about, that I loved doing, that I was good at. Finally, finally, 14 years after my first undergrad quarter, I'm graduating with a degree in history. But now, I'm once again at a crossroads, with a decision to make. This time around as I make big decisions, I know something I didn't know before. I know how to carve out space in my life for the things that are important to me, that make me who I am, irrespective of being a wife and a mom. I know more about how and where to draw the line about what I am willing to give up, and what I need to keep. I believe that being a wife and a mom is my vocation. I don't believe that there is anything else I could do that is more important than raising good and decent human beings and being the best partner I can be to Captain America. But while my family may be the most important I ever do or contribute to, it's not the only thing.
I'm poised to reach the point of eligibility for a military retirement in just a few months. That is a huge milestone achievement for me. My degree is another one: I am the only person in my immediate family to attend, let alone graduate from, college. Neither of my parents, nor none of my four siblings ever went. And I'm not done with school: my big decision relates to the possibility of resurrecting a dream that I thought was abandoned. I am seriously considering going to law school; at a point in life when many people are well established in careers, I feel like I'm just starting mine. It's odd to look around at my classmates and realize, without exaggeration, that I could be their mother.
OK, admittedly I'm still learning how to carve out that space. Sometimes I go too far and commit to too many outside activities and need to reel myself back in and reorient myself on my true north, my family. Sometimes I immerse myself a little too much at home, and forget that I do have interests and pursuits and goals that have nothing to do with the care and feeding of my little people. I also know that life happens while you're busy making big plans and I have learned a lot about flexibility and Plan B.
In the book, Hollee and Becky share that the women they interviewed sorted themselves roughly into two groups: the Never Enough's and the Good Enough's, that probably need no further definition. I can think of several examples of each in my circle of friends and acquaintances, and if there's one thing we all have in common, it's that we're all trying to do our best for our families, and for ourselves. There's no checklist, no template; each of our families are different and have different needs and wants. There is no right answer. We're doing the best we can. And that is good enough.
28 April 2011
Disarray
Although you wouldn't necessarily gather this about me by looking around my house, I don't like clutter and mess. I like things to generally be in their place and semi-straightened up. I have a family that includes three boys and one husband; I know my house is never going to look like something out of a magazine (unless maybe there is a print version of Hoarders, but I digress...) and I don't really want it to. But I do like things to be generally in order.
This week has been a tough one, because we're in transition. We're moving out old furniture and moving new stuff in. So. Half of the old set, which has found a new home with a good friend, is still in my garage. We started loading it into a truck and then...the skies opened and out poured enough rain to fill Lake Michigan. Well, maybe not quite that much, but honestly, it's been raining here for weeks. So, the rest of that set sits in the garage until the friends and the husband can both be here at the same time to load and move.
This also means that there is no furniture in the bedroom. As in, sleeping on the floor. Amid piles of clothes. Since there is, of course, no bed and no dressers in there. I have slept in worse conditions, that is true. And I had some cushy comforters and blankies to make a reasonably comfortable nest out of. It wasn't that bad, and it was only two nights.
As I am typing this, two strapping young men are upstairs putting together the new bedroom set and I can hardly wait to start putting things back to rights. Clothes in dressers, knick-knacks back on shelves. I can hear the power tools buzzing right this very minute, and it really makes me happy. It's not something I can do, build furniture, but it sure makes me happy that others can. It will make the mess in my house go away, at least temporarily.
Just like in my bedroom, clutter and mess in my life make me grumpy too. There has been some more family drama as of late, and I am only indirectly involved. It directly affects people that I love, and there is very little I can do about that either. I can provide emotional support, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen and maybe offer some insight or advice. But I can't fix what's wrong. And I can't stop the tears from flowing, and the pain from crashing in.
And just like these guys that are fixing the disarray in my room, there is a silver lining in all these clouds that will bring light into the darkness that has been hanging over my family for several weeks now.
That's the thing....I have to learn to live with the temporary disarray and messiness, in order to get to the order and (relative) neatness that makes me feel better. And I have to let my people suffer the pain and wander in the dark, so that they can find that silver lining. If it was light all the time, they'd never see that one sparkly place.
And man, is it a good silver lining.
I really dislike clutter and mess, darkness and pain. But I have learned that it is a necessary step on the way to a happy and peaceful place.
Now I'm going upstairs to put my clothes away and make my new bed :)
This week has been a tough one, because we're in transition. We're moving out old furniture and moving new stuff in. So. Half of the old set, which has found a new home with a good friend, is still in my garage. We started loading it into a truck and then...the skies opened and out poured enough rain to fill Lake Michigan. Well, maybe not quite that much, but honestly, it's been raining here for weeks. So, the rest of that set sits in the garage until the friends and the husband can both be here at the same time to load and move.
This also means that there is no furniture in the bedroom. As in, sleeping on the floor. Amid piles of clothes. Since there is, of course, no bed and no dressers in there. I have slept in worse conditions, that is true. And I had some cushy comforters and blankies to make a reasonably comfortable nest out of. It wasn't that bad, and it was only two nights.
As I am typing this, two strapping young men are upstairs putting together the new bedroom set and I can hardly wait to start putting things back to rights. Clothes in dressers, knick-knacks back on shelves. I can hear the power tools buzzing right this very minute, and it really makes me happy. It's not something I can do, build furniture, but it sure makes me happy that others can. It will make the mess in my house go away, at least temporarily.
Just like in my bedroom, clutter and mess in my life make me grumpy too. There has been some more family drama as of late, and I am only indirectly involved. It directly affects people that I love, and there is very little I can do about that either. I can provide emotional support, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen and maybe offer some insight or advice. But I can't fix what's wrong. And I can't stop the tears from flowing, and the pain from crashing in.
And just like these guys that are fixing the disarray in my room, there is a silver lining in all these clouds that will bring light into the darkness that has been hanging over my family for several weeks now.
That's the thing....I have to learn to live with the temporary disarray and messiness, in order to get to the order and (relative) neatness that makes me feel better. And I have to let my people suffer the pain and wander in the dark, so that they can find that silver lining. If it was light all the time, they'd never see that one sparkly place.
And man, is it a good silver lining.
I really dislike clutter and mess, darkness and pain. But I have learned that it is a necessary step on the way to a happy and peaceful place.
Now I'm going upstairs to put my clothes away and make my new bed :)
18 April 2011
Faith and conversion
I just read the most amazing book yesterday. (Book club girls, look away, LOOK AWAY, if you haven't read it yet!)
It is called Unplanned, and it is written by a young woman named Abby Johnson, who was at one time the director of a Planned Parenthood clinic. She had a dramatic conversion over the course of several years working for Planned Parenthood first as a volunteer, and eventually as a fulltime paid employee, rising to the level of director of her own clinic and a media representative for Planned Parenthood. She is passionate about helping women; you can see that and feel it in her story. No matter which side of the fence she is on, literally or figuratively, you can really get a sense of the depth of her commitment. This post is not a debate about abortion or reproduction rights or any of that icky political stuff. I have my beliefs, and you have yours, but I don't want to argue. And see, this is my blog :)
No, I don't want to debate at what point a fetus becomes viable, or what point a fetus gains legal personhood or what the intricacies of the law should look like in my perfect world. I want to examine Abby's conversion and just stand in awe at what faith can do.
Abby was firmly pro-choice, and believed strongly that women should have the right to choose what to do with their own bodies. Abby believed whole-heartedly that Planned Parenthood's mission was to decrease the number of abortions overall, and she believed she was working for the betterment of women's lives. She believed she was working as a part of a force for good in the world.
But she always had these little questions nagging at her. She couldn't always reconcile what she said she believed with the actions she took. She was horrified when a very pregnant woman came into her clinic and asked for a late-term abortion, at twenty-three weeks. Her own line in the sand was at the point of viability; she couldn't abide late term abortions. But this woman really challenged her; she said to Abby, "What difference does it make, six weeks or twenty-three weeks? Isn't it all the same anyway? I just want it out of me." Bound by her commitment and responsibility as clinic director, Abby sent the woman to a medical facility that did late term abortions, not being able to budge the woman from her decision with adoption agency referrals or the knowledge that the baby was in fact medically viable. The woman simply didn't care, and it bothered Abby greatly. But this was not the point where she acted. Not yet. She was asked to assist in a procedure one day, and what she saw and what she felt in that room added to her growing inner turmoil But this was not the point where she acted yet either.
Finally, she was given a reprimand and a stern talking-to about her clinic's failure to meet its financial goals. She was told to do whatever she had to do, to raise revenue. She knew that the clinic made the most money from performing abortions as opposed to family planning and birth control education, and she believed she was being told to increase, not decrease, the number of abortions performed in her clinic. That went against everything she believed she had been working for, and that was what finally pushed her into action. She left Planned Parenthood and ran into the arms of the "enemy," the Coalition for Life.
Outside of Abby's clinic, there was a fence with a gate where Planned Parenthood employees and client drove through to park their cars. The fence is symbolic in Abby's story; it's not the kind of fence you can sit on. You must choose a side. On one side was Planned Parenthood and on the other was the Coalition for Life and other pro-life individuals who would stand on the sidewalk and offer prayers, or try to persuade the clients going in not to go, that there were other options they should consider.
Out of all of the facets to Abby's story, the one thing that I found most compelling was her relationship with God. She wanted to be closer to Him, but she wouldn't give up the one thing that meant so much to her, her job. She truly believed she was doing good work and her family needed the paycheck she brought in. She went from church to church, finding varying degrees of comfort and acceptance, but never finding her spiritual home. She heard God's quiet questions and she wondered why, if she was doing good and she could take pride in her work, she couldn't tell her family about her job? Why did she avoid talking about it with her mother? Why did her pro-life husband, although he loved her, challenge her when she wanted to talk about things that happened in the clinic? Why did she avoid telling people at church what she did for a living? All these questions....
When we know we are doing what we are meant to do or following God's will for us, there is an inner peace that overcomes the questions. Not that the questions necessarily go away forever, but they don't hold the same power. It feels easier to let them go. Abby didn't stop having concerns but because her faith was increasing she was better able to trust that God would answer them in time. It's really hard to step out in faith, not knowing where the path leads, and afraid that it will lead you away from everything you know and all your places that feel familiar and safe.
Abby did just that, and I am in awe.
Her book is difficult, very difficult to read in places. I cried with her, more than once. But ultimately, in the end, it is a beautiful story of faith and redemption. It got me thinking about a lot of things, in ways I never had before. It made me question myself on what I believe, and why I believe. I don't know Abby Johnson and will probably never meet her. I borrowed the copy of Unplanned from one of my book club girls, didn't pay for it and didn't get asked to write about it. But I have been moved and affected by Abby's story, and it's made me approach my faith and my beliefs in a new way and I wanted to share it. I hope you will consider reading Unplanned, and letting it challenge you.
It is called Unplanned, and it is written by a young woman named Abby Johnson, who was at one time the director of a Planned Parenthood clinic. She had a dramatic conversion over the course of several years working for Planned Parenthood first as a volunteer, and eventually as a fulltime paid employee, rising to the level of director of her own clinic and a media representative for Planned Parenthood. She is passionate about helping women; you can see that and feel it in her story. No matter which side of the fence she is on, literally or figuratively, you can really get a sense of the depth of her commitment. This post is not a debate about abortion or reproduction rights or any of that icky political stuff. I have my beliefs, and you have yours, but I don't want to argue. And see, this is my blog :)
No, I don't want to debate at what point a fetus becomes viable, or what point a fetus gains legal personhood or what the intricacies of the law should look like in my perfect world. I want to examine Abby's conversion and just stand in awe at what faith can do.
Abby was firmly pro-choice, and believed strongly that women should have the right to choose what to do with their own bodies. Abby believed whole-heartedly that Planned Parenthood's mission was to decrease the number of abortions overall, and she believed she was working for the betterment of women's lives. She believed she was working as a part of a force for good in the world.
But she always had these little questions nagging at her. She couldn't always reconcile what she said she believed with the actions she took. She was horrified when a very pregnant woman came into her clinic and asked for a late-term abortion, at twenty-three weeks. Her own line in the sand was at the point of viability; she couldn't abide late term abortions. But this woman really challenged her; she said to Abby, "What difference does it make, six weeks or twenty-three weeks? Isn't it all the same anyway? I just want it out of me." Bound by her commitment and responsibility as clinic director, Abby sent the woman to a medical facility that did late term abortions, not being able to budge the woman from her decision with adoption agency referrals or the knowledge that the baby was in fact medically viable. The woman simply didn't care, and it bothered Abby greatly. But this was not the point where she acted. Not yet. She was asked to assist in a procedure one day, and what she saw and what she felt in that room added to her growing inner turmoil But this was not the point where she acted yet either.
Finally, she was given a reprimand and a stern talking-to about her clinic's failure to meet its financial goals. She was told to do whatever she had to do, to raise revenue. She knew that the clinic made the most money from performing abortions as opposed to family planning and birth control education, and she believed she was being told to increase, not decrease, the number of abortions performed in her clinic. That went against everything she believed she had been working for, and that was what finally pushed her into action. She left Planned Parenthood and ran into the arms of the "enemy," the Coalition for Life.
Outside of Abby's clinic, there was a fence with a gate where Planned Parenthood employees and client drove through to park their cars. The fence is symbolic in Abby's story; it's not the kind of fence you can sit on. You must choose a side. On one side was Planned Parenthood and on the other was the Coalition for Life and other pro-life individuals who would stand on the sidewalk and offer prayers, or try to persuade the clients going in not to go, that there were other options they should consider.
Out of all of the facets to Abby's story, the one thing that I found most compelling was her relationship with God. She wanted to be closer to Him, but she wouldn't give up the one thing that meant so much to her, her job. She truly believed she was doing good work and her family needed the paycheck she brought in. She went from church to church, finding varying degrees of comfort and acceptance, but never finding her spiritual home. She heard God's quiet questions and she wondered why, if she was doing good and she could take pride in her work, she couldn't tell her family about her job? Why did she avoid talking about it with her mother? Why did her pro-life husband, although he loved her, challenge her when she wanted to talk about things that happened in the clinic? Why did she avoid telling people at church what she did for a living? All these questions....
When we know we are doing what we are meant to do or following God's will for us, there is an inner peace that overcomes the questions. Not that the questions necessarily go away forever, but they don't hold the same power. It feels easier to let them go. Abby didn't stop having concerns but because her faith was increasing she was better able to trust that God would answer them in time. It's really hard to step out in faith, not knowing where the path leads, and afraid that it will lead you away from everything you know and all your places that feel familiar and safe.
Abby did just that, and I am in awe.
Her book is difficult, very difficult to read in places. I cried with her, more than once. But ultimately, in the end, it is a beautiful story of faith and redemption. It got me thinking about a lot of things, in ways I never had before. It made me question myself on what I believe, and why I believe. I don't know Abby Johnson and will probably never meet her. I borrowed the copy of Unplanned from one of my book club girls, didn't pay for it and didn't get asked to write about it. But I have been moved and affected by Abby's story, and it's made me approach my faith and my beliefs in a new way and I wanted to share it. I hope you will consider reading Unplanned, and letting it challenge you.
12 April 2011
Any regrets?
**I received a complimentary copy of 29, by Adena Halpern, from my friends at From Left to Write and while this post was inspired by the book, I have received no compensation for it. The thoughts and opinions in this piece are all my own and are not necessarily endorsed by From Left to Write or the author of the book.**
I have often thought about what I would do differently over the course of my life, if I had a chance to go back and do it over again. Adena Halpern's heroine, Ellie, in 29 got just such a chance. I really enjoyed reading the book, but even more than that, I enjoyed a meander down memory lane and a mental do-over just to see how things might have gone had I made another choice at several crossroads in my life. And if I had that chance, would I get to have the benefit of knowing what I know now? THAT would make a big difference. What age would I go back to? Which choice would I get to undo? It really kind of opens up a whole bunch of other questions, doesn't it?
One of my big regrets that I often think about was my decision to quit the job that I loved when my first child was born. I was a cargo loadmaster in the AF Reserve, and I LOVED my job. I oversaw cargo loading and unloading on C141 jets, and flew (literally) around the world as part of my work. My crew and I would leave our base, fly somewhere and pick up a load of stuff bound for somewhere else, fly there and download it. Sometimes we'd stay there, or sometimes we'd go and pick up another planeload of stuff somewhere else. Sometimes we just flew passengers (usually troops or military family members) and sometimes we flew aeromedical evac missions. We worked hard and played hard. We stayed hotel rooms in beautiful places sometimes and we stayed in tents in scary places other times. I have been all over Europe, several Middle Eastern locations, Asia, Central and South America, the Pacific Rim. I have pictures of myself on horseback at the pyramids in Egypt, and outside of centuries-old German castles, and on the beach in Hawaii. My very first mission, my "dollar ride," went to the south of France. I have a collection of t-shirts and souvenirs from all over. We used to call them "MAC treasures," MAC meaning Military Airlift Command. MAC is no more; the name is gone, but the mission of military airlift moves on, just under a different acronym. There certain things everyone bought in certain countries. There was the black soap from Spain, the wooden chests from the Azores. There were Persian rugs from Kuwait and leather purses and jackets from Turkey. In Korea, you could buy an amazing array of embroidered things: what we used to call "morale patches" for your flight suit, helmet bags that were bigger than the AF issued ones with your name and your wings sewn right on. Bag tags with anything you wanted embroidered on them, in any color you wanted. I had blue ones with my name and my wings, and Snoopy the Flying Ace on mine. Most of my friends were flight crew members also, and so was my husband. My whole world was on that airplane, for the most part.
And then, there was Moe. Sweet little Moe, precious baby, forced me to re-evaluate what was really important to me. I believed, right up till the moment I said, "I can't," that I would take some time off to be with him, and then I'd pack my bag for a short 3 or 4 day trip once in awhile, keeping the best of both worlds. I'm a notorious fence sitter...my butt is perfectly made to get real comfortable up there. My boss, Chief H, was as patient and kind as he could be; his first grandchild was born close to the same time as Moe, so he got to live through his daughter's pregnancy and mine almost simultaneously. He said, "Take as much time as you need. Your job will be here." Until he couldn't anymore, and he called me at home and said, "It's time for you to make a decision. I need to get you into the training schedule." As I was talking to him, I was sitting in Moe's room, watching my four month old baby boy sleeping peacefully, and I just couldn't bring myself to say, "Put me in, Coach." Instead, I said, "I don't think I can, Chief."
I had made my back-up plan and lined up another job that did not require me to travel. And as much as I loved the folks in that office, the first day I set foot in there, my heart sank and I knew that I had chosen wrong. It was a no-win; I didn't want to leave my baby, but I wanted a job that made me feel good too. If I was going to leave him to go to work, even part time, hadn't it better be worth it? But I was stuck with the decision I made, and over the years, I think I have made the best of it. After Moe came Larry and Curly, and today, flying is certainly out of the question altogether. I'd have been able to fly for maybe another year or two, most, anyway. I have discovered other things I love doing and my military career marches on. To a different beat and at a different pace, to be sure, but still it marches on. I am still friends with some of the same people, and I am still married to the same guy, so I have done pretty well in keeping the best of both worlds.
But....given the chance, would I go back to being 29 and making that decision over again? I don't know that I would decide differently. I had parents who weren't there when I was growing up and as much as I loved my job, I don't think I could have done it with my whole heart anymore. The minute I left the local pattern, I'd have been itching to get back home and get my hands on Moe. Where I used to identify myself as an AF reservist, a loadmaster, a flyer....now I identify myself more as Moe, Larry and Curly's mom and Captain America's wife. I am still an AF reservist and proudly wear the uniform (although it's not a flight suit anymore) and I wear other hats too.
I talk to my friends who are still flying and tell them how I still miss it, 11 years later. They ask me, if you could go back and change it, would you?
No, I still don't think I would. I would be tempted, seriously tempted. But I'd have to say that I love my life and if I had continued to fly, who knows what it would look like? No, it was a really hard decision that had some long lasting ripple effects, and I often wonder, what if? Given the chance, I still feel sure I made the right decision for me and my family, no matter how hard it was at the time.
In the book 29, Ellie gets to do some similar soul-searching, but you'll have to read it to see where her heart lies :)
I have often thought about what I would do differently over the course of my life, if I had a chance to go back and do it over again. Adena Halpern's heroine, Ellie, in 29 got just such a chance. I really enjoyed reading the book, but even more than that, I enjoyed a meander down memory lane and a mental do-over just to see how things might have gone had I made another choice at several crossroads in my life. And if I had that chance, would I get to have the benefit of knowing what I know now? THAT would make a big difference. What age would I go back to? Which choice would I get to undo? It really kind of opens up a whole bunch of other questions, doesn't it?
One of my big regrets that I often think about was my decision to quit the job that I loved when my first child was born. I was a cargo loadmaster in the AF Reserve, and I LOVED my job. I oversaw cargo loading and unloading on C141 jets, and flew (literally) around the world as part of my work. My crew and I would leave our base, fly somewhere and pick up a load of stuff bound for somewhere else, fly there and download it. Sometimes we'd stay there, or sometimes we'd go and pick up another planeload of stuff somewhere else. Sometimes we just flew passengers (usually troops or military family members) and sometimes we flew aeromedical evac missions. We worked hard and played hard. We stayed hotel rooms in beautiful places sometimes and we stayed in tents in scary places other times. I have been all over Europe, several Middle Eastern locations, Asia, Central and South America, the Pacific Rim. I have pictures of myself on horseback at the pyramids in Egypt, and outside of centuries-old German castles, and on the beach in Hawaii. My very first mission, my "dollar ride," went to the south of France. I have a collection of t-shirts and souvenirs from all over. We used to call them "MAC treasures," MAC meaning Military Airlift Command. MAC is no more; the name is gone, but the mission of military airlift moves on, just under a different acronym. There certain things everyone bought in certain countries. There was the black soap from Spain, the wooden chests from the Azores. There were Persian rugs from Kuwait and leather purses and jackets from Turkey. In Korea, you could buy an amazing array of embroidered things: what we used to call "morale patches" for your flight suit, helmet bags that were bigger than the AF issued ones with your name and your wings sewn right on. Bag tags with anything you wanted embroidered on them, in any color you wanted. I had blue ones with my name and my wings, and Snoopy the Flying Ace on mine. Most of my friends were flight crew members also, and so was my husband. My whole world was on that airplane, for the most part.
And then, there was Moe. Sweet little Moe, precious baby, forced me to re-evaluate what was really important to me. I believed, right up till the moment I said, "I can't," that I would take some time off to be with him, and then I'd pack my bag for a short 3 or 4 day trip once in awhile, keeping the best of both worlds. I'm a notorious fence sitter...my butt is perfectly made to get real comfortable up there. My boss, Chief H, was as patient and kind as he could be; his first grandchild was born close to the same time as Moe, so he got to live through his daughter's pregnancy and mine almost simultaneously. He said, "Take as much time as you need. Your job will be here." Until he couldn't anymore, and he called me at home and said, "It's time for you to make a decision. I need to get you into the training schedule." As I was talking to him, I was sitting in Moe's room, watching my four month old baby boy sleeping peacefully, and I just couldn't bring myself to say, "Put me in, Coach." Instead, I said, "I don't think I can, Chief."
I had made my back-up plan and lined up another job that did not require me to travel. And as much as I loved the folks in that office, the first day I set foot in there, my heart sank and I knew that I had chosen wrong. It was a no-win; I didn't want to leave my baby, but I wanted a job that made me feel good too. If I was going to leave him to go to work, even part time, hadn't it better be worth it? But I was stuck with the decision I made, and over the years, I think I have made the best of it. After Moe came Larry and Curly, and today, flying is certainly out of the question altogether. I'd have been able to fly for maybe another year or two, most, anyway. I have discovered other things I love doing and my military career marches on. To a different beat and at a different pace, to be sure, but still it marches on. I am still friends with some of the same people, and I am still married to the same guy, so I have done pretty well in keeping the best of both worlds.
But....given the chance, would I go back to being 29 and making that decision over again? I don't know that I would decide differently. I had parents who weren't there when I was growing up and as much as I loved my job, I don't think I could have done it with my whole heart anymore. The minute I left the local pattern, I'd have been itching to get back home and get my hands on Moe. Where I used to identify myself as an AF reservist, a loadmaster, a flyer....now I identify myself more as Moe, Larry and Curly's mom and Captain America's wife. I am still an AF reservist and proudly wear the uniform (although it's not a flight suit anymore) and I wear other hats too.
I talk to my friends who are still flying and tell them how I still miss it, 11 years later. They ask me, if you could go back and change it, would you?
No, I still don't think I would. I would be tempted, seriously tempted. But I'd have to say that I love my life and if I had continued to fly, who knows what it would look like? No, it was a really hard decision that had some long lasting ripple effects, and I often wonder, what if? Given the chance, I still feel sure I made the right decision for me and my family, no matter how hard it was at the time.
In the book 29, Ellie gets to do some similar soul-searching, but you'll have to read it to see where her heart lies :)
07 March 2011
The Pledge
I recently read about something called The Mom Pledge, on my friend Elizabeth's blog, and it really piqued my interest.
She's written this great book about ceasing and desisting from the colossally ridiculous Mommy Wars, where we moms beat each other up mercilessly for making different choices than we ourselves did. Stay-at-home vs. working, breast-feeding vs. bottle-feeding, co-sleeping vs. cry-it-out, spanking vs. no-spank, cloth vs. disposable, jar baby food vs. grow your own, circumcise vs. intact, baby-wearing vs. exersaucers.....the list of these battles never ends. The fact of the matter is that the vast majority of us are all doing the very best we can with our kids, from day to day, doing what we believe in our hearts is the best thing for our own families. Who can find fault with that? Why must we not just critcize, but crucify, those who make different choices than we do? What makes us the authority on someone else's child? What right do we have to demean and excoriate someone else's mothering? Is ours so perfect? Really?
So, I have a few things to say about the Mommy Wars and the Mom Pledge. You knew that was coming, right?
I've pretty much laid out my feelings on the Mommy Wars. But in case there is any doubt, I think they are stupid and destructive. Motherhood is a gift. It's a blessing. And until you are there in it, no one can tell you how unbelievably difficult it is, at the same time it is so rewarding. It's so hard, to be so sleep deprived with a new infant, a colicky baby, a stubborn toddler....it's shocking that such a small person can literally bring a grown woman to her knees. But they do. Daily.
Which is why we moms need other, more experienced moms so desperately to help us navigate the rough waters. And we don't need their criticism. Especially as a new mom, you need to know that you're doing ok. Even if you can't nurse, or if you have to go back to work, or if you simply need someone else to take the baby out of earshot for 20 minutes so you can decompress. So what if you aren't following whatever the latest baby book of "wisdom" just got published, because there just aren't enough hours in the day to grow your own organic garden to make your own organic baby food, hand-wash your baby's organic cloth diapers in spring water and lovingly prepare perfectly balanced meals for your adoring spouse and perfectly-behaved older children who never complain about what's for dinner and beg for the pizza delivery man? So what if you're flying by the seat of your pants? So what if you haven't showered in two days? So what?
I remember vividly when my boys were babies, and I stayed awake at night, when I should have been getting the sleep I needed so badly. I stayed up worrying because some other mom on a message board told me I had irrevocably scarred my son and he would fault me someday because of choices my husband and I made for him. Other moms proclaimed against those of us who had taken pain medication in labor, that we had all made conscious choices to drug our babies, and that they would suffer for it and we'd have no one to blame but ourselves. There is no limit to the ways mothers can wound other moms, and frankly it makes me angry.
Why? Seriously, why? Are we all that insecure with our choices that we need to beat up on someone else to make ourselves feel better? Do we really think we're so much better than others who choose differently?
Only in the last couple of years have I come to truly appreciate the depth of my need for my circle of girlfriends....my village. I lean on them and they lean on me. Dude, I NEED them. And I have been blessed, BLESSED, I tell you, with a phenomenal group of friends and acquaintances that help me navigate, whether they realize it or not. Some moms I know a little bit....we chit-chat in the school parking lot waiting to pick up our kids or on the sidelines of the soccer field. Some moms I know better....we attend Bible study, prayer groups, or book clubs together and share more of ourselves. And some moms I know really well: we've helped each other pick up pieces of broken relationships and comforted each other through real losses.
All of them are crucial and all of them, I need. A lot.
Which is why I've chosen to take The Mom Pledge. Not that my little blog gets much traffic or many comments but I don't tolerate bullying or being mean for the sake of being mean. I don't tolerate it in my kids' school or in their behavior, I don't tolerate it in my life, and I really don't tolerate it in conversation and interactions I happen to be a part of. I like a good healthy debate and differences of opinion are welcome.
But the bottom line is respect, people. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
We moms have another choice to make. Right now. Do you want to be part of the problem, or part of the solution? Do you want to help other moms and offer advice and friendship or criticize them and make them feel worse? Do you want to help create and be part of a supportive community or a playground bully, a "mean girl"?
Play nice :)
She's written this great book about ceasing and desisting from the colossally ridiculous Mommy Wars, where we moms beat each other up mercilessly for making different choices than we ourselves did. Stay-at-home vs. working, breast-feeding vs. bottle-feeding, co-sleeping vs. cry-it-out, spanking vs. no-spank, cloth vs. disposable, jar baby food vs. grow your own, circumcise vs. intact, baby-wearing vs. exersaucers.....the list of these battles never ends. The fact of the matter is that the vast majority of us are all doing the very best we can with our kids, from day to day, doing what we believe in our hearts is the best thing for our own families. Who can find fault with that? Why must we not just critcize, but crucify, those who make different choices than we do? What makes us the authority on someone else's child? What right do we have to demean and excoriate someone else's mothering? Is ours so perfect? Really?
So, I have a few things to say about the Mommy Wars and the Mom Pledge. You knew that was coming, right?
I've pretty much laid out my feelings on the Mommy Wars. But in case there is any doubt, I think they are stupid and destructive. Motherhood is a gift. It's a blessing. And until you are there in it, no one can tell you how unbelievably difficult it is, at the same time it is so rewarding. It's so hard, to be so sleep deprived with a new infant, a colicky baby, a stubborn toddler....it's shocking that such a small person can literally bring a grown woman to her knees. But they do. Daily.
Which is why we moms need other, more experienced moms so desperately to help us navigate the rough waters. And we don't need their criticism. Especially as a new mom, you need to know that you're doing ok. Even if you can't nurse, or if you have to go back to work, or if you simply need someone else to take the baby out of earshot for 20 minutes so you can decompress. So what if you aren't following whatever the latest baby book of "wisdom" just got published, because there just aren't enough hours in the day to grow your own organic garden to make your own organic baby food, hand-wash your baby's organic cloth diapers in spring water and lovingly prepare perfectly balanced meals for your adoring spouse and perfectly-behaved older children who never complain about what's for dinner and beg for the pizza delivery man? So what if you're flying by the seat of your pants? So what if you haven't showered in two days? So what?
I remember vividly when my boys were babies, and I stayed awake at night, when I should have been getting the sleep I needed so badly. I stayed up worrying because some other mom on a message board told me I had irrevocably scarred my son and he would fault me someday because of choices my husband and I made for him. Other moms proclaimed against those of us who had taken pain medication in labor, that we had all made conscious choices to drug our babies, and that they would suffer for it and we'd have no one to blame but ourselves. There is no limit to the ways mothers can wound other moms, and frankly it makes me angry.
Why? Seriously, why? Are we all that insecure with our choices that we need to beat up on someone else to make ourselves feel better? Do we really think we're so much better than others who choose differently?
Only in the last couple of years have I come to truly appreciate the depth of my need for my circle of girlfriends....my village. I lean on them and they lean on me. Dude, I NEED them. And I have been blessed, BLESSED, I tell you, with a phenomenal group of friends and acquaintances that help me navigate, whether they realize it or not. Some moms I know a little bit....we chit-chat in the school parking lot waiting to pick up our kids or on the sidelines of the soccer field. Some moms I know better....we attend Bible study, prayer groups, or book clubs together and share more of ourselves. And some moms I know really well: we've helped each other pick up pieces of broken relationships and comforted each other through real losses.
All of them are crucial and all of them, I need. A lot.
Which is why I've chosen to take The Mom Pledge. Not that my little blog gets much traffic or many comments but I don't tolerate bullying or being mean for the sake of being mean. I don't tolerate it in my kids' school or in their behavior, I don't tolerate it in my life, and I really don't tolerate it in conversation and interactions I happen to be a part of. I like a good healthy debate and differences of opinion are welcome.
But the bottom line is respect, people. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
We moms have another choice to make. Right now. Do you want to be part of the problem, or part of the solution? Do you want to help other moms and offer advice and friendship or criticize them and make them feel worse? Do you want to help create and be part of a supportive community or a playground bully, a "mean girl"?
Play nice :)
25 February 2011
Just do it
I have been seriously absent from writing new posts lately. For the last several months, in fact. Not that I haven't had reasons, other demands on my time. And a sneaking suspicion that maybe my ramblings are only interesting to me, but I don't really want to think about that right now.
So, I have decided, right now, tonight, to just do it. Just write something.
One of the major reasons that I have been so lax on blogging is the fact that I am in an all-out sprint to the finish line of my undergraduate degree. Today ended the eighth week in a ten-week quarter. I have two weeks of classes, then finals, and then.....nothing. Till graduation in June. Nothing. Well, nothing but big decisions to make about what I am going to do next.
In an act of blind faith, I recently bought study guides for the GRE (grad school test) and the LSAT (law school test). I say "blind faith," because that's the kind of faith that I have, that I will know what to do, when the time comes. I've gotten quite comfortable up here on the fence, and the view on the grad school side looks a lot like the view on the law school side. A lot more school, more papers, and ideally, something at the end of the road to show for my hard work.
But I also have this new option to consider, that I hadn't really thought about until very recently. Maybe I won't go back to school at all. Maybe I'll continue doing what I'm doing right now: working part time for my Reserve unit, writing history. And I'll be an active engaged mom, instead of the frazzled, always-running-late-for-school-pickup mess that I have become. I am eternally grateful to have a supportive spouse in Captain America, who picks up way more than his fair share of my slack. When he's home. He does laundry, he drops off and picks up and chats with the moms at least as well (probably better than!) as I do. He does dishes, and he manages the busy social lives and practice schedules of Moe, Larry and Curly. And boy, am I ever grateful.
But last weekend, I had a little moment where I questioned myself, an epiphany of sorts. When the boys come looking for me (which happens less and less often these days), they come to the computer first. Mostly, they look for dad. But if he's not home, they have no choice. And it bums me out immensely that they have internalized that I'm generally too busy working on schoolwork to deal with their requests for snacks or their arguments, or just to help with their vocabulary homework (if it's math and dad's not home, they're really out of luck).
I get that it's important for me to do something that means something to me, whether it's work, or school, or a hobby; a pursuit that feeds my soul, and fulfills me in some way. I have said 'yes' to many of these things: I work part-time, I write freelance, I volunteer frequently at the dudes' school, I teach preschool PSR (parish school of religion), I go to school myself, I am part of a mother's prayer group, I have joined a book club, I help coordinate and put on Vacation Bible School in the summer. And I have a family that needs me to be present, and friends I want to spend time with...you see where I'm going with this.
It's a familiar refrain...learning to say 'no.' We women are helpers and nurturers by nature, and it's difficult to say 'no' to someone who is asking for help. I think maybe it's more of an issue of learning to say 'yes' to the right things, and concentrating on giving your best to those. So what is it that truly feeds my soul? Where can I channel my efforts so that I can feel like they matter and they make a difference?
I'm a Libra; I can see both sides of any issue and am hopelessly wishy-washy. Hmm, maybe this law school thing isn't the best idea for me.... In any case, making a decision is often really hard for me, especially when it affects everyone else around me too. Going back to school again involves time given up with my family, and saying 'no' to some things that would make me happy.
I need to make decisions, but I'm afraid to, afraid that I'm choosing the wrong thing, or that my choice will make someone else mad, or that I'll regret the choice I make. But fear is no justification for a decision, and if I pursue something that ultimately fulfills me and makes me happy, then I'm a better person, and better mother for it.
Just do it.
So, I have decided, right now, tonight, to just do it. Just write something.
One of the major reasons that I have been so lax on blogging is the fact that I am in an all-out sprint to the finish line of my undergraduate degree. Today ended the eighth week in a ten-week quarter. I have two weeks of classes, then finals, and then.....nothing. Till graduation in June. Nothing. Well, nothing but big decisions to make about what I am going to do next.
In an act of blind faith, I recently bought study guides for the GRE (grad school test) and the LSAT (law school test). I say "blind faith," because that's the kind of faith that I have, that I will know what to do, when the time comes. I've gotten quite comfortable up here on the fence, and the view on the grad school side looks a lot like the view on the law school side. A lot more school, more papers, and ideally, something at the end of the road to show for my hard work.
But I also have this new option to consider, that I hadn't really thought about until very recently. Maybe I won't go back to school at all. Maybe I'll continue doing what I'm doing right now: working part time for my Reserve unit, writing history. And I'll be an active engaged mom, instead of the frazzled, always-running-late-for-school-pickup mess that I have become. I am eternally grateful to have a supportive spouse in Captain America, who picks up way more than his fair share of my slack. When he's home. He does laundry, he drops off and picks up and chats with the moms at least as well (probably better than!) as I do. He does dishes, and he manages the busy social lives and practice schedules of Moe, Larry and Curly. And boy, am I ever grateful.
But last weekend, I had a little moment where I questioned myself, an epiphany of sorts. When the boys come looking for me (which happens less and less often these days), they come to the computer first. Mostly, they look for dad. But if he's not home, they have no choice. And it bums me out immensely that they have internalized that I'm generally too busy working on schoolwork to deal with their requests for snacks or their arguments, or just to help with their vocabulary homework (if it's math and dad's not home, they're really out of luck).
I get that it's important for me to do something that means something to me, whether it's work, or school, or a hobby; a pursuit that feeds my soul, and fulfills me in some way. I have said 'yes' to many of these things: I work part-time, I write freelance, I volunteer frequently at the dudes' school, I teach preschool PSR (parish school of religion), I go to school myself, I am part of a mother's prayer group, I have joined a book club, I help coordinate and put on Vacation Bible School in the summer. And I have a family that needs me to be present, and friends I want to spend time with...you see where I'm going with this.
It's a familiar refrain...learning to say 'no.' We women are helpers and nurturers by nature, and it's difficult to say 'no' to someone who is asking for help. I think maybe it's more of an issue of learning to say 'yes' to the right things, and concentrating on giving your best to those. So what is it that truly feeds my soul? Where can I channel my efforts so that I can feel like they matter and they make a difference?
I'm a Libra; I can see both sides of any issue and am hopelessly wishy-washy. Hmm, maybe this law school thing isn't the best idea for me.... In any case, making a decision is often really hard for me, especially when it affects everyone else around me too. Going back to school again involves time given up with my family, and saying 'no' to some things that would make me happy.
I need to make decisions, but I'm afraid to, afraid that I'm choosing the wrong thing, or that my choice will make someone else mad, or that I'll regret the choice I make. But fear is no justification for a decision, and if I pursue something that ultimately fulfills me and makes me happy, then I'm a better person, and better mother for it.
Just do it.
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