Conversation, Interrupted

Dear UD,

               Eight years ago on this day, we all gathered to celebrate your 61^st birthday. The next month, we lost you. I can’t believe it’s been eight years since we’ve talked. Eight years since I’ve heard your voice. Eight years since we played Bridge together, ate together, laughed together.

                Time is uncountable. There are so many things I want to tell you, so many changes in the world, in my life, so many times I want to brainstorm with you again.

 

Conversation, interrupted.

 

Even in this past year so much has happened that I wish you, and mom, and dad, were here to witness, to share. 

I’m starting my own business, a publishing company, and publishing some of my books, and your plays. So many days, I wish I could call you to talk about the company, the editing, the excitement, all those details that you nurtured, and I wish so much you were here to see Memorial Day Picnic published.

 

My grandson, DJ, David James, is a source of love and joy and happiness. He shares a name with you, and like you, he is the epitome of loving and creative and smart and sweet.

 

I met a brilliant, kind, amazing man, and I wish we could all sit around the table, play Scrabble or Spades, and talk and laugh and learn together.

 

One two three…those are only three but some of the top, best, most precious I want to tell you, mom, dad…

 

Conversation, interrupted.

 

It’s Spring again, UD, so time to celebrate and honor you and your influence on me, in this world, and in our family. Happy birthday, Uncle David. You are remembered, you are missed, you are loved.

 

Love, Rach

Heart of the Matter

The more I know, the less I understand
And all the things I thought I figured out, I have to learn again
I've been tryin' to get down to the Heart of the Matter
But my will gets weak
And my heart is so shattered
But I think it's about forgiveness

~ India Arie’s “The Heart of the Matter”

I’ve watched friend after friend (writing friends who are also writing teachers, adjuncts) thrown away by their educational institutions in callous and even shocking ways. I’ve felt blessed to continue receiving enough classes to make ends meet (by enough, I mean overloads, as many classes as I could find). Unfortunately, I’ve discovered this semester that my time of overflowing classes is at an end. I haven’t been thrown away like some stories I’ve heard, but I’ve been told in no uncertain terms from the various institutions that I work for that I can no longer have overloads, no matter what (partly because of lower enrollment and partly so that they don't have to pay adjuncts health insurance).

Even with working at more than one institution, this change necessitates changes in our living situation.

Another change in our life has overshadowed everything for the past year: Lexi going off to college. I haven’t written about it because I’m not ready, but the bottom line is this: I am thrilled for Lexi to have the opportunity to live and study in NYC. Yes, I realize that it is a normal and natural cycle of life for her to go off to college and move on with her life, and I support her and let her fly. However, it has changed everything for me and for Laina. It’s like someone came into our home and sucked out a huge chunk of life and energy and who we were. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through, and we are still reeling from it and working to adjust.

Furthermore, I am rethinking my career path. I’ve taught for over twenty years and have loved it. I’ve taught people from all over the world and people of all ages. I have a high standard in my classroom, which means that I challenge my students to see, learn, and be more. Not all of them like that. In fact, nowadays most of them hate that.

Recent feedback from a student (printed with permission): “I am almost ashamed to admit that this exercise has left me feeling maudlin.  There are actual tears in my eyes.  I feel like I have wasted so much of my life with unimportant work and petty concerns when what I should have been doing is writing.  I am mortified by my own lack of discipline and I can only hope that it is not too late for me to accomplish something I can be proud to say I have done.  This semester has been the most fulfilling bit of education in my life, despite the fact that I already have an AA degree.  My attitude has always been never to let school get in the way of my education because ninety-nine percent of the drivel I sat through in college felt like remedial classes for high school.  I just seemed to reap more from independently reading on my own.  At first, I found this class daunting.  You want a lot of time and effort from your students, much more than most instructors at this institution.  I am sure that does not sit well with some of your pupils, but I appreciate it greatly.  Thank you.“

Words and students like this make teaching so worthwhile. The thought of giving up teaching breaks my heart; however, the whole climate has changed for educators, even for college instructors, and I have been looking for full-time work for five years now.

Moreover, my high standard also means tons of work for me. This semester alone I have read over one thousand pages of student essays and many more pages of simple assignments along the way (both online and on paper). All of that reading and helping students with their writing interferes with my own writing and creativity. This past month (while in NYC and away from the computer, away from a screen, for most of two weeks), I realized just how much strain my eyes and brain have been under. The crux: I am exhausted and need a real break while I reevaluate and decide where to go from here.

Furthermore, my dad has recently gone on hospice. Again, not something that I am ready to write about because I still have so much processing to do. But, I want to spend time with him and be there for family right now.

Coming to Florida was definitely the right thing five years ago. We have met so many amazing people here and been blessed in so many ways. We have healed and grown and learned so much here, and we have had so many incredible opportunities.

 

Florida 2014

Florida 2009

I am deeply grateful for the friendships and support that we have found here. Words cannot express how much you all mean to me and how you have blessed our hearts and lives with your kindness and love.

I’ve prayed for clarity and answers, and I’ve written hundreds of pages of journal entries the past few months as I sorted out options and the pros and cons of everything. As I processed it all, a few simple truths emerged.

Truth #1: Something has to change.

Truth #2: If I only do the same thing/ask for the same thing (piecing together a living), then I’ll just keep getting the same thing.

Truth #3: I am exhausted from piecing together a living.

Truth #4: We miss family.

I don’t have the answers yet, but I do have the beginnings of a plan. We are packing up this month and going to Missouri to be with my family for the holidays and a couple of months while I finish sorting things out. Transitions are hard, but this is still part of the whole divorce transition. I learned in Divorce Recovery that it generally takes five years after the divorce is officially final to be completely settled again. It’s been three years for me, and I know I’ve come a long way in those three years and am excited to see where the next couple of years take me.

Going through all of this (the divorce, the move away from everyone we knew, the fresh start, the longing for family, my dad’s illness and prognosis, etc.) has taught me so much about the kindness of others and the importance of forgiveness, of letting go. I’ll never forget words that my dad spoke to me over twenty years ago, when I was the one in college. He said, “When it comes down to it, all you’ve got it is your family.” Right now, that is the “heart of the matter,” and I am happy that Laina will have a chance, even for a few months, to be rooted in family, rooted on land that has been in our family for over a hundred years. Nothing can replace a foundation like that.

This is a bittersweet moment as we plan to leave friends who have become family here to go stay with family we have missed there. I don’t know where we will be by summer; we may settle into life in Missouri or return to life in Florida or even begin again some place new. Either way, I am ready for the next adventure.



Newton Ulysses Crawford, the First

On April 5, 1918, Woodrow Wilson was president, and nations around the globe were locked in the campaigns and battles of the First World War.  On that calm spring day in a log cabin on a Missouri farm deep in the Ozark Mountains, a blessed baby boy was delivered into the world by a country doctor who arrived on horse and buggy. Born to Bessie and Homer, Newton Ulysses Crawford, the first child and only son, would see 96 years, some 35,000 days of family, laughter, love. So much change, yet he always approached life as an adventure, even throughout the three wars that he served as a Naval Officer—he was a true war hero who fought with honor in World War II, Korea, and Vietnam.

His father, Homer, was born in an alfalfa field in 1894. His parents worked on the land as farmers except for one year when they lived in town to work in the Brown Shoe factory after it opened. Homer and Bessie had two more children, daughters Dortha and Juanita, and the siblings always got along.

Newton farmed, fished, hunted, and explored the 320 acres of forests, fields, hills, river bottoms, and bluffs. Mostly, he worked with his relatives, plowing fields and hauling hay. In his spare time, he walked to school, starting school at four years because he “fussed and fussed” until they let him and making it through two years of high school. He loved going to school, and recess was his favorite part. His mom sent box lunches with peanut butter and jelly on homemade bread and fruit from the orchard on their property. He walked to school, crossing a swinging bridge over Possum Creek.

He didn’t have shoes and went barefoot most of the time, though wore lace-up boots in the winter. He often walked ten miles back and forth to town. They did not have electricity until after he left home, so he did not grow up listening to music on the radio or watching television. He carried in wood every night for the fire. He said that they normally had cornbread, beans and milk at night and oatmeal on eggs for breakfast while lunch was chicken, squirrel, quail, or pork. They sometimes ate opossum or frog legs. They grew or raised everything they ate except for sugar, salt, and pepper.

On Sunday mornings, he went to church with his family, and afternoons he played games like baseball, horseshoes, jacks, dominoes, and cards. Sometimes, they flew kites, made mud pies, or went roller skating or sledding. They often met for picnics, potlucks, or family reunions.

When he turned 16, his grandpa bought him a tractor to keep him home, safe on the farm for a few more years. But Newton joined the Navy and served for 30 years, traveling the world, surviving three wars, making the highest ranking as a Naval Officer, CWOW4 or Chief Warrant Officer W-4.

Everywhere he went, Newton planted a garden, if he could, and told stories of his gardens in exotic places during his years in the Navy.

Retiring from the military, he spent 30 years as a cattle farmer on his family farm where he lived in a white house built by Crawford hands many years before. Two careers, two lifetimes.

He married his childhood friend, Juanita Allen, the girl from just down the road, on September 30, 1944 at the preacher’s house in Houston. He said about his wife, “she’s the most beautiful thing I ever saw!!  She was really pretty!” Married for 61 years, always together until her death in 2006.

His only son, Newton Ulysses Crawford, Jr. was born on March 1, 1948 in California. Newton, Sr. said, “Newtie was always laughing and having fun.  He liked to have a bath and play in the water.” 

Newton Jr. returned to the family farm with his own family. Another white house that had been built by Crawford hands moved, driven down the roads to the hill, placed next to its match. From one son, 10 grandchildren, 20 great-grandchildren, including Newton Ulysses Crawford III and twenty years later, Newton Ulysses Crawford IV. Newton the First also had a decade plus of being the grandpa next door. We remember playing rook, watching movies, eating holiday meals...every family event, he stood strong and tall; his presence always there, steady, soothing. Most of the time, he wore his three-time war veteran hat, blue jeans, a blue button down work shirt, and brown cowboy boots.

His sun-spotted hands built houses, a family, a farm. Like his mother, Bessie, he lived into his nineties, driving his own car, and living in his own house until the very end. Change, war, loss, laughter, love—through it all he remained kind, with good humor and an optimistic spirit.

The man and the land leave a significant legacy. An honor to his generation, he will be missed. From him, how much we learned. Thank you, Dad, Grandpa, Great-Grandpa, Newton the First, for showing us the value of family, hard work, a positive attitude, and kindheartedness. For displaying the importance of keeping a garden, raising our own food, and taking care of our land. For teaching us to explore the world and live as an adventurer. You will live on in our hearts and minds from a million treasured memories. We love you.

A Heart That Blesses

There are a couple of things I’ve learned that have helped me through this health scare:  how we react is up to us, and perspective is everything.  So, I chose from the beginning to see the lab results as a sign from God.  The evening I got the results, I wrote:  He is showing me that it is time for real change and a lifestyle refurbishment.  I am okay.  Everything will be okay.  I trust God, myself, life, the world.  This will be a blessing.

I began the weekend with big lists and big plans for changes, things that I’ve been working towards for a while now.  Things like going to bed at a decent hour, getting back to exercising five times a week, and sticking with a strict but healthy nutrition plan.  The biggest change is to create more balance between our busyness and downtime.  Ultimately, I knew that I had to de-stress my life as well as learn to handle stress better.

Then, I talked to my uncle who cautioned me to start slow.  Yes, make real changes, he advised, but don’t try to do it all at once because that will create more stress as well as set you up for failure.  When I shared this with Lexi later, she said, “How’d he get so smart?!”  He’s absolutely correct.  One of my problems has been moving from extreme to extreme, and it’s time for balance.

During our phone conversation, my uncle mentioned something about how capable I am, and I began to cry because I finally figured out why I have felt so intensely stressed over the past several years.  Well, it’s partly because there have been so many “hits” to handle, and I feel overwhelmed.  Events and changes like the ones in my life are stressful.  Period.  Yet, it’s also because I feel so alone.  Now I know that I am capable and strong, that I can do whatever is needed, that I can make things work, create what I want.  A few years ago, I didn’t know this.  Now that I do, rather than taking comfort, I’ve felt stressed because it means more and more piled on top of me.  Just because I can handle a lot doesn’t mean I should.  Just because I am capable of doing it all alone doesn’t mean I should.  I have felt so alone for a long time, even during the latter part of my marriage, and that feeling had triggered a fight or flight response in my body that has been near the surface this whole time.  And, all last month with the added dog responsibility, the stress reflex went through the roof.  Wound way too tight, I was inhaling rescue remedy gummies like candy.  The conversation with my uncle and releasing tears helped me settle down.  Be more calm and at peace.  Since then, I have started incorporating small changes, little things at a time, things I know I can do on a consistent basis.

We were so glad to have a chance to go to church again on Sunday, and it was inspiring.  Everything was exactly what I needed to hear, as if God were talking directly to me.  This Sunday, the pastor started a new series called “Heart Strings,” and this week’s message was Psalm 139, about “The God who is always there” with his presence and love. I am keeping the notes along with the first 16 verses from the chapter next to my bed to read when needed.  If you are feeling alone or afraid, read that chapter! 

Near the end of the service, we sang some Kristian Stanfill lyrics: 

Trouble surrounds me, chaos abounding.

My soul will rest in you.

I will not fear the war, I will not fear the storm,

My help is on the way, my help is on the way.

Oh my God, He will not delay,

My refuge and strength, always.

I will not fear, His promise is true,

My God will come through always, always. 

I lift my eyes up, my help comes from the Lord. 

My eyes watered, but I sang along, letting the words wash over me, healing and soothing.  I felt my body release and my muscles unwind.  It was as if I let go of the stress, the weight that I had been holding onto so tightly for so long.

As usual, on the way home and around the lunch table, we discussed what we took from the service.  I realized that part of my stress has come from believing lies such as I am alone and I have to do it all alone.  It’s time to embrace the truth that God is always with me and that I have many wonderful people around me.

The next morning I woke up relaxed yet intensely sore.  It hurt to move, and I don’t remember feeling this level of pain since I started going to the Fix on a regular basis.  I stretched, took some deep breaths, walked Thorin for 30 minutes, and later went to my Fix muscle massage therapy appointment.  While there, I proposed that perhaps my muscle enzymes were high because of stress and maybe I am this sore because I had been clenching my muscles and finally released them.

In the Nehemiah study, we recently discussed being willing to be, simply be and “show up,” where God wants you and moving “full circle.”  Kelly Minter writes, “God had brought Nehemiah full circle, beginning at one broken gate on the circumference all the way around to the very same gate, only on this day all had been made new…we have reason to hope He will work with the same restorative power in our lives…Where the place we stand remains the same but everything around us has changed, this is full circle.  This is a miracle.”

On Monday night, the doctor called me.  I’d dropped my results off at his office on Saturday, and an evening phone call terrified me.  Would he tell me to go to the ER right now?  Would he want to run expensive tests, prescribe medicine, or perform surgery?  Would he say my heart was broken and needed repair?  How would I afford anything that he wanted me to do?    

I answered the phone, unlocked the patio door, opened it, and walked outside for better reception. 

“Everything looks good,” he said.  “Just have blood work done in another three months to see where you are then.”

At first I argued with him.  Not that I wanted anything to be wrong, but that I wanted to know I was really okay.  He said he wasn’t concerned with the one high number but that he could order a specific heart test, if I wanted.  He asked about other symptoms to confirm that he doesn’t think there’s a problem at this time.  He said to contact him if new symptoms appear, but other than that, simply test everything again in a few months.  He agreed with my theory about the high stress levels impacting the results of the blood work and even agreed with my uncle about making changes in a slow but steady manner. 

A small smile lingered as I hung up, and I rushed in to give the girls the good news.  “But we have to take this as a warning sign,” I cautioned.  “It’s still important to de-stress our lives and move towards balance and health.” 

A good writing friend sent me an email today, worried about me and the title of my blog and encouraging me to focus on the positive and be aware of self-fulfilling prophecies.  She’s right.  “A Heart That Breaks” is the title of the Nehemiah book that I’ve been studying at church, and having a heart that breaks is meant in a positive way in the book:  a compassionate heart, a heart like God’s, a heart that hurts for others and helps others.  I agree with these things, and I choose to express a compassionate heart a bit differently.  My heart has been broken—for myself, for my daughters, for others.  Now, I have a heart that heals—for myself, for my daughters, for others.  I have a heart that blesses—myself, my daughters, others.  We each have a choice.  Which do you choose?