This is my first "blog" by the pond. I reluntantly put on a tank top to expose my winter skin to the sun. The tank exposes much more than color. I'll cut myself some slack though since the demands of the truck wreck have brought forth a condition that weakens me considerably to the point that by midafternoons, I didn't have the energy to move on. I have, however, had at least a dozen new blogs racing through my mind but have saved them to "trigger words" for later. Instead, I've restored some order to the house, watched the children and noted their needs, read up in the Bible and was shamed to just now find answers that have always been there, and slept. Truth be known, my optimum performance is with 9 hours sleep. I'm "tired" of being afraid to acknowledge it, not afraid of my husband's, but of this fast paced world's, opinion.
All of us but McKala skipped church this morning in hopes of also skipping the stomach bug going around. Some may think it self serving, but today I'm communing just fine out here in the open with my Maker. Melody is playing her keyboard on the front porch, Macklynn and best friend,Trevor, are sword fighting on the driveway, Miranda is making flyers to give away 2 of her rabbits because work takes her away from them, Michael has been giving his 3 week old calf feed by hand, McKala is reading/sleeping since she "is" the one who got up and went on to church, Madalynn is making me wet sand pies with dry sand "sprinkles" as my dog dripping from catching tapdoles comes to see if there's any for her.
So much seems to "happen" to us. As I've mentioned, none of it has involved finality of life and for that, I am profoundly thankful. In the last days having time to relax and reflect, I'm convinced that these misfortunes, even our awkward marriage reconnections, are very much a diversion tactic by the evil one himself. People say not to let the children be what keeps it all together, but I'm learning that they are very much the glue 'til we have time to change our ways and make new memories. Our 16 year old is on the verge of making her future happen while dealing with some pretty deep issues; our 13 and 14 year olds are quickly on their way to maturity, very delicate times of personal growth; our 10 year old is well on her way to flowering and hung in the middle of home dealings; our 6 and 3 year olds will leave their childhoods behind them before I know it. I remember years ago explaining our marital woes to my closest friend and she ended it with reference to Mike's constant interaction with the children, the very desire so many women have. He even takes someone to the gas station or to run the briefest of errands. For Mike and I to set out on separate paths has the potential to break building blocks in their lives from which they may never recover. My own parents, one in the name of personal satisfaction, were divorced when I was fifteen. I don't know if it was thought that I was old enough to understand, but I assure you that I was not. My parents have since remarried each other, but those years of my brother's and my lives can't be recovered even in the best of forgiveness. And who knows what traits were left in us?
When Mike reads this, he might find what's written so far to be disturbing. I hope the following will redeem me. In the living out of daily functions, I've felt a flicker, a spark, seen a glimmer out of the blue in the last couple of weeks. He's distraught that it's been a year and that being "in love'' has no hope of returning or if it ever "was". With the mildest responses, I've explained that moving forward in friendly laughter will make the new foundation on which to build the new us. And on the way to the store yesterday, I had a "revelation".
The blog before last was about "living country". It's ironic that he was born in Fulton County just outside of Atlanta and I was raised in North Alabama, but HE is the culmination of all things country. I credit his parents for "turning him loose" when the school day was over letting him ride out his pent up energy on his motorcycle all over the community, through the woods, and on the creekbank. He has tales of playing in drain pipes, making his own fun. He carried it with him when, as a young teen, his family finally escaped to the country. He was in his element, even taking on one of the deepest drawls of anyone around as he helped his now lifelong friend slaughter hogs for sausage and make it right out on the front porch for people all around to come and buy. Although miles away still, the lake life was such an attaction for him and his friends. It's one of the things I hope he can afford to regain one day to enjoy with our sons and daughters. I'd say it's almost inevitable, even if we have to rent equipment, since two of the things the children have yet to do is learn how to water ski and drive a boat.
All this is to say that I'm a biscuit hater from Alabama and didn't ever have a real pair of cowboy boots 'til he bought them for me, not having ridden horses much since my Shetland Pony. All the fun and adventure we have derives from his rooted connection with the outdoors and hard work. If not for him, I quite likely would be a high falutin, well educated, not so wise but ever so practical creature living in boring normalcy. Often his use, as most men's, for these country things is practical, but it pulls me into another level - the beauty and awe of every created thing and its purpose. In deciding "who Michelle is" after all these years, I'm finding that what I'm drawn to, Mike led me there, sometimes in strife but either way, I'm there and a lot of good surrounds me in this world we've made.
I've already listed off things on Facebook that's he's inspired here: the flying, repairing, riding, building; firewood and the fascination with fire, water, history, travel, sports, and much more; discovery - finding and digging up things to find the value of; shooting, hunting, caring for animals and plants; even down to the cooking and sewing. He and I met when I was 16 and he was 19, married in a little over a year, and I didn't know the first thing about homemaking including cooking and cleaning, which I'm still teased to no end about. I had been on the fast track to college. I studied, primped, socialized, and drew on occasion. I'm glad he saw past the facade. He thinks I'm not glad - that I regret so much of my life. I only regret that it wasn't done with more peace. Last year came to a head when so many things that used to be directed at me were suddenly cast also on the children, not that he was always wrong in his judgement but that it was issued with animosity. So, they have a long road to travel back, too. He's stated that since they're very capable of doing things he's taught them that he isn't very needed now. He was met promptly with the fact that things still have to be passed onto Macklynn and Madalynn. That was a very nice touch from the mouth of a 13 year old son. I say we get back to doing the things he dreams up that make life worth living, just within our spending limits this time and without the cursing and excess of alcohol when things don't go as planned.
See, he thinks that all this writing, the working out of my thoughts, is the beginning of the end. I think it's just documenting how far we will have gone when we look back from the correction of something that otherwise would've been rubble if we'd quit and if God were not One of many chances.
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