tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84794162127590157592024-02-18T21:50:56.914-05:00My Dance of JoyYou can dance anywhere, if only in your heart.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.comBlogger106125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-16334026862071407842013-03-19T19:02:00.001-04:002013-03-19T19:02:45.874-04:00Old Lyme has suffered a loss. A vibrant 41-year-old woman lost her three year battle with breast cancer. She leaves behind a fourth grader, a first grader and a preschooler. This one hit me hard because John was in the first grade and Hunter was only a year younger when we lost Sean. And they're all boys. I heard that she said, "I just don't want my boys to grow up without a mother." Those words echoed Sean's who worried about the boys growing up without him. <br />
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I think about their wedding days when their wife is dancing with her father, who will they dance with? I think about all that I'm trying to teach my boys. That they really need to tell their wife how beautiful she is every day. She'll really like that I say. That they should let the girls at the bus stop go on before them even though they don't understand why yet. That just because burping and farting may be funny, there is truly a time and place for it. I'm trying to teach them to be good citizens but more importantly to be good and kind men and husbands. My heart is grieving and praying that these boys will be surrounded with good strong women to guide them. <br />
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Today I read one of the letters that Sean left me. Just about nearly did me in. Made me heave and cry it was so beautiful. He wrote, "Wife, mourn for me. Mourn bitterly for me. But when that time is done, smile. Live your life and breathe. Then breathe again. I'm with my Father." These words carry me. They give me hope and a future. That one day in the future I will be able to talk with Sean again. That all is not truly lost. God, may this family have that same comfort. <br />
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Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-67405554386953217902013-01-17T12:04:00.000-05:002013-01-17T12:04:17.616-05:00Wednesday NightLast night was a particularly difficult night. Every Wednesday night during Awana, I have two free hours by myself. Usually I love that time. Last week I went to the library, the week before I hunkered down at Panera reading to my heart's content. But last night I forgot the book that I was reading and I didn't have much direction or goal for the night. I've discovered that busyness and plans are the best way to handle grief and sorrow. <br />
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I found myself at Target and could only manage to kill one hour. I just didn't have the heart to walk around anymore looking at stuff I didn't need or couldn't really afford right now. Then I went to my car and I cried. I cried because Wednesday nights were going to be Sean's and my night. They were going to be a rare respite from the chaos of the week. A chance to talk uninterrupted. In that moment in the car, I missed him with an ache that went straight to my bones. And now they were never going to come to pass. <br />
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Then I went to Kohl's. Things have been a little tight right now financially and I have made a promise to myself in this year that I would cut back on unnecessary purchases. But a good purchase has always been known to make me feel better. Well I found myself in the bathroom section and I found a shower curtain displayed that would have looked wonderful in my bathroom. I also found a lovely cup that would beautifully display our toothbrushes. I couldn't find the shower curtain in the right section and a nice sales person offered to run upstairs to see if she could locate one. I told myself that if she found it, it just had to be a sign from God and it was okay for me to buy one, the credit card bill be darned! She didn't find one. As I searched another aisle, I came across it. It was 35.00 on sale! And with the cup it would have been over 50.00. I couldn't really pay that off in a month and I mentally figured out the interest rate. It just kept eating at me as the grief was eating at me before. <br />
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I love the Scripture that says, "When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me." A person who was acting like a child would have bought that stuff. She would have been more stressed and snapped at her children. She would have been temporarily happy but so frustrated and angry at herself when the bill arrived in the mail. <br />
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Thankfully I did what I should have been doing more of since Sean passed away and I walked away from that store empty-handed. I felt a little freer, I felt proud of myself and I felt like I put some childish ways behind me. I knew that I missed my husband with a gut-wrenching intensity and I was still going to feel whether I had a new shower curtain or not. <br />
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So, I'm going to have a better plan for Wednesday nights. I'll cry in the car and that's okay. I'll mess up in the future and that's okay too. I'll remember my darn book..and I'll have some great Wednesday nights. Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-83433176378310781172012-11-09T08:51:00.001-05:002012-11-09T08:56:15.843-05:00Lately I've come to a pretty big revelation in my life. Ready? I gotta be me. That's it. It seems pretty simple but to me it's kind of earthshattering. I've tried so hard to fit into a mold that I think people want me to be that I'm exhausted most of the time. I'm quirky, I talk a lot and I talk fast. Sean said to me one time, "Jen, you're the most alive person I know." And I'm slowly coming to the realization that that's okay. Do I want to be cool? Sure. Do I want to be calm? Absolutely. But, I'm not. I used to think that growing up was letting go of all. Now I think maybe it's embracing all that you are, good and bad and being okay with that. <br />
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Parenting is hard. It is literally the hardest thing I've ever done. And I've been pretty open when I'm struggling. I need that. I need someone to look at me and say, "I've been there". "I yelled at my kids today too!" "I messed up too!" It honestly feels like my life has been saved a little bit in that moment. I have these people around me who don't share what they're going through. They put on this cool exterior when I know they're drowning just like I am. And I've tried to go down that road. AND IT'S NOT ME. I gotta know someone is down here in the trenches with me getting just as dirty and tired and frustrated and blessed as I am. <br />
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Grieving is hard. There is two other families in my town who suffered a loss very close to when I did. The women are different than me. They prefer to stay home and be alone in their loss. Let me just say: There is absolutely nothing wrong with that. But then there's nothng wrong with my need to be around people. If I'm not, then I start to feel like the weight of my loss will crush me. For so long, I looked to them and thought they were suffering "correctly" and I wasn't. I laugh. A lot. I have to find the humor in a situation or I will lose it. And that won't be pretty. Again, another thing I thought I was doing wrong. But I am slowly coming to realize that my sense of humor is a gift from God. <br />
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I can still hear Sean's words in my head. I think that's pretty great. I can pretty much look at any situation and know exactly what he would say. There was one day when he looked right in my eyes and he said, "Why is that you're always the one who's wrong and they're right?" I think about that A LOT since he died. Why are they right and I'm wrong? Can't we just be going through life differently? Can't we both be right with our own distinct personalities? <br />
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This life is hard. A rose garden we definitely were not promised.<br />
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I think what it is is that I'm tired of feeling bad about myself. It's like this ache in my heart that I'm finally ready to let go of. Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-24587435372870271212012-05-14T00:04:00.002-04:002012-05-14T00:04:22.620-04:00VisitSaturday the boys and I went to see Sean's grave for the first time. It was long overdue and we only went because John really wanted to see it. I gotta admit that I had a pit in my stomach and couldn't stop crying the days leading up to the trip. There's just something about seeing the name of the person you love the most on a gravestone that can make it pretty real. Because of the weather conditions at the time of Sean's death, he wasn't buried for a couple of months later, so I really didn't have any idea where he was located in the cemetary. Gratefully I have a friend who has visited him. When I spoke with her before the trip I expressed my sadness and dread at going. And she said that she didn't think seeing his grave would be any harder or make it more real for me because I miss him so much every day. I got a little angry at that. She's never been a widow and knew she couldn't possibly understand. She went on to say that his grave was really beautiful and that it's a place that honors him. I honestly got a little more angry. He isn't there...I was afraid of questions the boys may have and answers maybe I wouldn't have....I was scared. <br />
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So I went. It's amazing what I will do for these children, the hell that I will walk through. And the strangest thing happened. I didn't fall apart, the boys were happy and I walked away realizing that my friend was right all along. I know that Sean is with the Lord, like I know my own name. I know even though his body is there, his spirit sits with the legions of angels praising the name of his Best Friend. But, there is something about a grave. We pass through this world quickly, and in Sean's case, much too quickly. And it's comforting to me that there is some piece of granite in a beautiful little corner of the world with his name on it. A little piece that says Sean was here and he isn't forgotten. <br />
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I'm going to visit a little more often. What I've learned about my daily grieving process, and what I'm grateful for, is that I'm not really ever able to get caught up in it. The phone rings, a child cries, responsibilities beckon and tears are quickly, maybe too quickly, wiped away. That brief moment of time has passed. But, when I go to the cemetary all will be quiet. There I will just be able to be a widow. A woman who just needs to sit and cry for the love that is gone. And in this season of my life I'm grateful that such a place exists. <br />
<br />Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-22677011515714185892012-02-27T10:20:00.004-05:002012-02-27T10:25:59.217-05:00Our Two GiftsOn Sean's birthday, I like to think that today we gave him two gifts. The first came from me. Let me explain. When the whole Hillary Clinton book came out about how it takes a village to raise a child I honestly thought it was a crock. I still think the main influences on a child are their parents and was too much of a control freak to think that anyone else really made that much of a difference. And then January 11, 2011 came along and that theory was blown out the window. Half of my whole was gone. And I truly began to realize that I need the people that are in my sons' lives. I need their teachers, their Sunday School leaders, their Awana leaders, their friends, their friend's families to help me raise these children. And that was really not more true than yesterday. Logistically, my life can be a little difficult but thankfully I have really kind people nearby to help. Hunter had a birthday party to go to and I arranged for John to go to his friend Mason's house. Let me interrupt myself here. Back story: John would ride the Superman ride at Six Flags but would not get on his bike. Literally. He was terrified of the thing. And I just knew in my heart it was time for him to get on it and ride. I asked Grant, Mason's father to help me. He was a good one to ask, I don't know too many more laid back people than him. I brought John and the bike to his house during that birthday party and said, "Will you please teach my son how to ride his bike?" Confession time: that was hard for me. I felt like a little bit of a failure as a parent with this. I felt like it was my responsibility to teach him but I knew that I just wasn't the one. And that was all right. So, I dropped him off and did what I do best - I cried halfway to the party. Tears that I wouldn't see him learn, tears that Sean wouldn't be the one to teach him and, honestly, relief that I could pass that on to someone else. So, Sean's first gift was my acceptance that maybe I can't always be the be-all and end-all in my sons' lives (persish the thought). But there will be people in their lives that will come alongside them and love them. What a gift to their father. <br />
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The second gift came from my John himself. I got to Grant's house after the party and he said, "Yeah, he knows how to ride and he's doing a good job." Just like that. You know how your children will ultimately teach you more than you'll teach them? Yeah. I got that in spades. John got on the bike, looked me straight in the eye and said, "Mama, I just didn't know how much fun it would be." God, I love that little boy. Talk about a life lesson right there. How many times have we missed something because of fear and missed all that fun? I know I have. So, I think the gift John gave was his willingness to try (once his mother went away) and he did it. John is living through the darkest days of his life and he triumphed. He could have kicked and screamed and refused to even try. Sean is watching that. I can only imagine that he was cheering him on from above. And I hope that we made him proud. Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-16149491346086726522012-02-26T22:27:00.001-05:002012-02-26T22:29:05.278-05:00Sean's BirthdayTomorrow is Sean's birthday. Tomorrow he would have been 49 years old. And all I want to do in the quiet moments of today is cry. <br />
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I got so many phone calls and cards on the anniversary of Sean's death and it made me heartsick. Not the love that people showed, but that the darkest day of my life was given any attention at all. The notice of the day gave weight to it. I talked with a friend who has gone through a devastating loss this year too and when people asked her what she planned to do to commemorate the one-year loss of her daughter, she hit the nail on the head. She said, "I'm going to try to forget the worst day of my life." That's how I feel too. I appreciated the love that people showed but I just hated being reminded of it so much.<br />
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But, his birthday. That's a different story. That's a day that should be remembered. Sean was in a word magnificent. He was the hardest working man I know, he was the kindest, most honest, forgiving, loving man to ever grace this planet. I was so proud to be his wife and he loved me and our sons. His birthday honestly always used to stress me endlessly. He loved angel food cake, his favorite, and I struggled every year to make a good one for him. He didn't have a lot of family so I felt a great responsibility to really show him how loved he was on his birthday. I would give anything to have to make another one of those dreadful cakes. And fret over not doing enough or worrying that I had gone way overboard. <br />
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He honestly lived every single day of his life. He gave and he gave and sometimes fell into bed with the exhaustion of the day after serving so many people in his life. I'm going to tell his sons what a remarkable husband he was, how he was the one who took the first lock of the boys' hair, how much he loved them. I'm going to try to show them the husband and father he was so that one day they will follow in his footsteps. That they will one day grow into the same kind of man he was. I see his kindness and his patience in John. I see his impishness and his generosity in Hunter. I'm just so very proud that I get to live with his children every day. <br />
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Your birthday is a celebration of your life. The years you've lived and the ones still down the road. It's a day to take stock and make some changes if you need to. It's a big day. So, as I sit here on the eve of Sean's birthday, my heart is sad.<br />
He was taken away from people who loved him so much. But I won't let them forget.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-24256041548033584872012-02-13T20:37:00.001-05:002012-02-13T20:37:16.042-05:00The Lesson I Learned From My New Hat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxOvSjojsY_PUiuhWAPJdnIFF2PJq_hyL2zDW7BU57JV8MtTQ5m8yGDGmgq2Bc03d7ZlxG2MDDYoO7ecMte8hdvrDMr_dnXhE2PfQhAQvBCk3azr-mZBwm77Sp60u1sOW-Ngm7BsIoIls/s1600/IMG_0475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxOvSjojsY_PUiuhWAPJdnIFF2PJq_hyL2zDW7BU57JV8MtTQ5m8yGDGmgq2Bc03d7ZlxG2MDDYoO7ecMte8hdvrDMr_dnXhE2PfQhAQvBCk3azr-mZBwm77Sp60u1sOW-Ngm7BsIoIls/s200/IMG_0475.JPG" width="150" yda="true" /></a></div>
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This is a picture of the hat I recently knitted for myself. To say I love this hat would be a huge understatement. I loved the whole process of knitting it because it wasn't easy. I had to rip it out and start over about five times. I was frustrated and angry but I kept at it. And the finished item was something I just adored. And I'm so glad I persevered. <br />
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Saturday morning rolls around and I start to get ready to go to John's basketball game. It's a Park and Rec game held at our local middle school. And I really want to wear my new hat. So, I put it on. Then I took it off. Then I put it on again and took it off again. I did this about five times. I even stooped so low to ask John (who's only 7 for goodness sake) if it looked okay. It was bordering on ridiculous. Gosh, I miss Sean, he really had such patience for me when I got like this. <br />
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It's only a hat....I know, I know. But I just worried that people would think I look silly. It's hard when you're forty but your heart feels sixteen. So I talked to myself a lot. I have a confession to make. I worry about what people think of me. <em>All the time.</em> It almost borders on excessive. And I know deep down in my heart it has to stop. <br />
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When Sean died, part of me died too. And I don't say that to sound maudlin, it's just the truth. When he died, I looked at the world differently and I honestly have tried to embrace that and live in a way that's opposite of how I used to. When the love of your life is gone and the world completely stops making sense and your life will never look the same again, things that used to matter don't anymore. And I keep forgetting that. It doesn't matter what people think of my new hat. <strong><em>I love it</em></strong>. And that is ALL that matters.<br />
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So I wore my hat on Saturday morning and I didn't even cause a blip in the world. It didn't cause an international incident and I'm pretty sure the people of Old Lyme aren't buzzing about it. But, it was a huge step for me. I shed a little more of the old Jen and that was pretty big for me. I started listening to that still small voice that is crying out to be heard. <br />
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Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-20923796354388549442012-01-10T20:53:00.003-05:002012-01-10T20:54:16.027-05:00One Year AgoOne year ago tomorrow will mark the one year anniversary of Sean's death. I honestly don't know what to say. One year ago I woke up as someone's wife and went to bed as someone's widow. I will never be the same again. Cancer is not just something that affects people I don't know anymore but rather it's an intimate enemy of mine because it took my best friend. The person I was a year ago is gone. She was naive in some ways, she thought time was on her side. Now I know better. That person is gone, but I'd like to think there's a wiser person now in her place. <br />
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One year is big but honestly it's just another day in this whole mess of missing him. I'll miss him tomorrow when I'm watching Hunter take his swimming lessons and there will be a moment when he gets it right, when his legs and arms are in coordination, and he yells to me, "I did it Mama!" And I'll want to look over at Sean and smile in that way that parents do when their kid does something amazing. I will never have that again. I'll miss him tomorrow when I will inevitably worry that I've done too much for the kids or I haven't done enough. I'll miss his laughter and his ways. <br />
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But, one year is big, I get that. It's a time to reflect on all that has transpired in the last year. Hunter started school, I bought a house, John started the second grade. We've all had to get up and walk forward and we've done that in the last year. I've made mistakes with my children. But, the one thing that I hope I've given them is the resolve to press on. That tragedies will come into your life but there can be joy and there can be laughter mixed in with the sadness. I've been determined since the day he died to do that. To pick up the mantel and say, "Cry when you want to cry but you better laugh when you want to laugh." <br />
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One year - he's been gone one whole year.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-84111315971470563062011-12-28T13:18:00.000-05:002011-12-28T13:18:10.822-05:00ChurchFour years ago Sean and I left our old church. The split was painful and disillusioning. I thought I would be serving the Lord with these people for a very long time. Words like "respect" and "offense" were carelessly thrown about. It's difficult to reconcile the walk not lining up with the talk. <br />
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To me, church is a place where you can take a deep breath. A place that represents the unconditional love that Jesus is. Now, I know people get in the way, I really do. But, it's supposed to be a place where people treat you differently. It's meant to be a safe harbor of sorts. <br />
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Fast forward to the present day. Sean and I in choosing a church picked the polar opposite of where we had just left. Where it was once tiny, now it's large. It's kind of easy to get lost in. And that's just what we did for three years. But, God slowly started to lead the way and we started serving in small ways. Then Sean's illness came along. And people really rallied to our side. People in that church called me and sat with me and pulled me through. <br />
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That help was probably never more prevalent until the day I moved. I felt unprepared and overwhelmed. It was such a big undertaking for me to do alone. But, alone was NOT what I was that day. What was the weirdest thing was that people seemed to do it <em>with a joyful heart</em>. I don't think I saw a single eyeroll or heard a sigh in frustration. They showed up. They came with strong backs and laughter and they reached out to someone who utterly could not do ONE thing for herself that day. And, to me<strong>, </strong>there was <strong>church</strong> service that day.<em> </em><strong> </strong><br />
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Now my only problem is really how to thank them. They will never know how very much I appreciated that my bed and those of my children were made, my kitchen was put away, furniture was moved and moved again, that whenever I said, "Have you seen my children?" someone always had. My pantry is stocked and organized and whenever I go in there, I think, "that's exactly where I would have put that." When I think back to that day, my heart gets full and it's something I won't soon forget. <br />
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They were literally His hands and feet that day. It didn't matter that we didn't meet in a building, that a collection wasn't raised, that worship songs weren't sung, He was praised. And I'm just so glad I got to be a part of that. <br />
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<br />Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-10637209332645492172011-12-03T17:21:00.001-05:002011-12-03T17:22:48.214-05:00I bought a houseThe inspections are done, the paperwork is completed, in ONE WEEK I will be a homeowner. I am 40 years old and I have never owned my own little corner of the world. People say I'm amazing. I think they're a little crazy. To me this is survival. It's amazing what you can do when you have little choice. People say they couldn't do what I'm doing. I think they're wrong. When your kids are at stake and when you HAVE to have their best interests at heart, the big girl pants have to come on. <br />
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People say to me that this is exciting. It is. But it's all really scary and really sad and really emotional. It's hard for me to leave this house because it's where Sean took his last breath. It's scary because a day will come when water will leak, furnaces will have trouble, toilets will overflow and there will be no one to turn to. The big girl pants will have to get thrown on then too.<br />
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But, I'll get to paint a wall. I have never in my life gotten to do that. I'll get to pick out the color all by myself. I got to buy furniture that I like. I have literally never bought a dining room table before and now I have. One time my real estate agent said to me, "You know, you could take this carpet out and have hardwood floors here." Gosh, I could, couldn't I? <br />
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The one thing that drives me on is my children are watching. I don't want them to drown in grief. I want them to take those moments when the pain hits and cry really hard but when their ready to run, I tell em to run. I laugh with them, I play video games with them. Life is meant to be lived, the hard times as well as the good. And I know deep in my heart that Sean would be pleased with that. He wouldn't want me to sit in a corner all day. So, I bought a house.<br />
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So, as literally and figuratively, one door opens while another closes, I will have a tear in my eye, a smile on my face and a lump in my throat.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-52382486665996334542011-11-22T17:53:00.000-05:002011-11-22T17:53:43.194-05:00This ThanksgivingThanksgiving has always been a really special time for me. Even as a child, I loved the smells, the family gathered around the table, even all the work the day requires. As a young adult, Thanksgiving took on a brand new meaning for me because that is the day I met Sean. We have one of those ridiculously romantic stories where he looked at me across the room and thought to himself, "I'm going to marry that girl." <br />
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Huh?<br />
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Truth be told, I've always been a little spoiled in the love department. I met him when I was so young - I was only home from college for 6 months. I was 22 and I got to love him for 17 years. All of my adult life so far. <br />
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When he was sick, he had this wonderful home health aide. I've ashamed that I can't remember her name but we had a conversation that will stick with me forever. Little rabbit trail: you tend to get to know the people who become part of the daily fabric of your life and she was no exception. She was absolutely wonderful, she even washed Sean's hair a day before he died. I actually told her that wasn't necessary, that she surely had another appointment to get to, but she insisted. She was tall, she was lovely in her own way, her quiet demeanor and peacefulness only added to that. She was extraordinary at her job and she had told me once in passing that she was married for 17 years and that she was divorced. She spoke so lovingly of her parents and never mentioned children and I just knew not to ask. Well, one day she sat at the table with me and told me what a good job I was doing with Sean. That the love that we shared was beautiful and rare and that she didn't see it everyday. Then she said something that completely stunned me. She said, "I have never been loved like you are." <br />
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I was speechless. She <em>was married</em>. Now, I'm not naive enough to think that every marriage is made of rainbows and lollipops but she was <em>married and she had never been loved like me. </em>And it just made me want to hug her. But, she taught me a valuable lesson and I can't help but remember her words this year. I'm really going to try to remember how blessed I am that an extraordiary person loved me and he liked me and he protected me. I wish that I could have had a thousand more years with him. I really do. But I'm going to look back at the 17 years, look at our two beautiful children and say thank you. Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-55476369027612290012011-11-18T12:05:00.001-05:002011-11-18T12:06:40.075-05:00Today I am feeling discouraged. I set a goal for myself this month that I would exercise every day and that I would drink less soda. I haven't really done either one. Soda is really the root of all evil in my world. It's the one thing that I just love to consume. The thing that gives me the most comfort in the food arena. It's truly like a drug for me. There's this blog that I've been following and this girl is doing great. She's lost 47 pounds since January <strong>of this year </strong>and she's done it all with Weight Watchers and discipline. That's something that I sorely lack. Every day I half want to stand up and cheer for her and punch her in the nose at the same time because she is doing something I can't. (kidding...) <br />
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I do great for about a week and then I fall off the wagon so far I can barely see it! I pay for Weight Watchers every month and don't use it. I just bought 4 more 12-packs of Pepsi this morning (on sale at least). I have a treadmill that I've been using spotty at best. <br />
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And now we're moving and it's all on me. And to me it just feels like another excuse. I know, I know. I've lost Sean. I need time to take time to heal from that and mourn. I just feel myself on a slippery slope that I need to get off of. I just found a Scripture that I love - <em>"Therefore, prepare your minds for action; be self-controlled; set your hope fully on the grace to be given you when Jesus Christ is revealed." 1 Peter 1:13</em><br />
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This weight for me is not just this weight. It's something much deeper. It's years of being self-indulgent. And it's something that I absolutely have to get a hold of.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-52522759141771839042011-11-08T13:36:00.001-05:002011-11-08T13:39:25.621-05:00Ethan ZohnEthan Zohn's cancer has returned. For anyone who doesn't know he was the winner of Survivor years ago and one of the notable things about that is that not a single vote was cast against him to be voted out. <em>Ever.</em> That's pretty unheard of in the cutthroat world of Survivor. He must be quite a man. <br />
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Anyway, back to cancer. The thing about this disease is it doesn't matter how popular or nice you are. He was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma a couple of years ago and it went into remission and in September he found out it was back. I saw this picture of him and his girlfriend, Jenna, just before he ran the New York Marathon. I literally could not stop looking at it. <br />
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<a href="http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20543179,00.html"><img alt="Ethan Zohn: Marathon Finisher in 4:20:46 | Ethan Zohn" border="0" height="320" src="http://img2.timeinc.net/people/i/2011/news/111121/ethan-zohn-240.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
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Now, I can't relate to the struggles that he is going through, but her - she's a different story. Everything that I have read about her, she <em>loves</em> him. And there is nothing more heartbreaking to see the man you love, who is larger than life as I'm sure he is to her, throw up in a bucket. To take a short walk and be winded. To crumble in front of you. I know, I've been there. And even though, I'm not them I know a little bit how that feels. I really wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. I look at this girl in this picture and she looks dazed, like the mack truck called cancer just backed up in her driveway and dumped out all its garbage on her doorstep. <br />
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Confession time: sometimes, during very dark times, I think I failed Sean and I think God took him early because of me. I could not do what she is doing. Ethan's cancer went away for 20 months. <em>For 20 months</em>. I imagine all kinds of plans were made, how jubilant they must have felt, how she might actually have taken a deep breath. I don't know that I could have waited for the other shoe to drop, to always feel like I had to look over my shoulder to see if cancer was catching up with us. I just don't know that I could have lived through that constant fear and waiting. Now I know that God's timetable doesn't revolve around me and Sean's life was written long before I came along. But, in the dark times - I think.<br />
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But, this girl. She's someone you want in your corner. If I met her today I would hug her so tight and I would tell her how hard I am praying for her. How at the lowest times of our lives, the ones who surround us the best - those are the ones.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-71173366651537496022011-11-01T22:34:00.004-04:002011-11-04T09:14:04.240-04:00Another day downIt's true how you can be in a room filled to the brim with people and still feel utterly alone. I feel like that a lot lately but not any time more than on Halloween night. I went to a wonderful friend's house and there were lots of really wonderful people there but I was painstakingly aware that every single person who came through the door was part of a pair. I think it's because I remember last Halloween a little too vividly. Sean had just gotten released from the hospital a few hours before trick-or-treating time and he insisted on joining us. He was gaunt, he was wearing a borrowed jacket that in better day he would have <em>filled </em>out but now hung loosely in all the wrong places, he looked scared. I remember looking at him and thinking that he already looked like he was so close to death. I was so proud of him that day because he truly exemplified love. He should have been grouchy, who would have blamed him. He should have gone home, gotten in bed and pulled the covers up. But, not my Sean. He was dying of cancer, he was in horrible pain but yet he loved his little boys enough to sacrifice all that to watch them have fun. I don't think Halloween will ever be the same for me. <br />
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And so I can say that I survived. I made it through another milestone without him. And whether people held my hand or tried to ignore the tears, it doesn't really matter. Because grief feels to me like I am clawing to survive just one more minute, one more hour, one more day without him. <br />
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I just miss his voice. I can't really think too hard about the fact that I won't ever hear it again. The way he used to know exactly the right thing to say at just the right moment. How I didn't have to explain everything to him. How I used to be able to step into his arms, take a deep breath and know deep in my heart that everything was going to be okay. Sean used to look at me a certain way and I just knew that he loved me. <br />
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There is somedays when I feel like the weight of the loss of him could only be likened to an elephant sitting on my chest. I literally have to try to catch my breath. And I'm glad that when I don't have any idea what to do next, my only choice can be to take another breath.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-2450002414790570882011-10-19T14:05:00.000-04:002011-10-19T14:05:02.102-04:00A piece of landI have long wanted to own my own little piece of America. A place where I can (finally!) choose a paint color, a place to put my feet up and rest, a place to call my very own. <br />
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It's starting. And here it is:<br />
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<img alt=" Click for more details " border="0" height="126" name="img1" src="http://images.raveis.com/ctmlspix/E2/52/65/E252659_1.JPG" width="161" /><br />
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She's a beauty and it looks like she might be ours. I'm scared, terrified, overjoyed. I just can't wait to not have a landlord anymore. It's time to grow up and I feel like this house is one more step in that direction. It's so scary because it's my name on the mortgage. It's scary because the agent kept saying, "you can do this" or "you can do that" and I thought, "I really could if I wanted to". <br />
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The owners have signed and the paperwork started today. The only thing to do right now is wait and start packing.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-34360303566271330812011-09-19T09:58:00.000-04:002011-09-19T09:58:04.424-04:00Quiet Weekend?This weekend was a first for me. One I even hate to admit. I actually stayed home all day on Saturday. Wait, did you miss the big announcement? I'll repeat it. I actually stayed home all day on Saturday. I didn't go to Target, I didn't go to the grocery store....I just stayed home. I talked about it with the kids at dinner and they were happy. Now, these are kids who ask me during breakfast, "Where are we going today Mama?" So, I thought I would hear some disappointment, but there was none. I told them that I just needed a day and that was that. So on Saturday they jumped on the trampoline, we played war, I sewed a little bit, we played the Wii together, we ate every meal at home (I know, I know...), and the best part of it was that there were no fits, no big explosions. Could there be something to this?<br />
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Then on Sunday, I promised them we would go crabbing after church! What excitement this news brought. So we headed off to the beach and it was high tide and there was nary a crab to be seen!!! But, because I have the two coolest kids ever (can anyone say biased?) their responses were, "That's okay Mama". We took a walk along the beach, found many treasures and headed off to the school playground. I'm so glad they seem to handle disappointments better than I do, but I'm also glad that the older I get the more grace I have for myself. There would have been a time when I would have berated myself that our crabbing plans fell through. <br />
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Then to top it all off, I was walking across the playground and John said to me, "Mama, you look like you've losed weight." Now, normally I would have corrected his grammar, but who would have wanted to spoil such a beautiful moment?<br />
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I have started walking, okay - it's only been 4 days but I have officially lost 1.1 pound. Gosh, if he can notice when I lose such a little amount, what will I look like to him when I lose 5 or 10 pounds? haha.....Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-9935595376614803522011-09-09T08:37:00.001-04:002011-09-09T08:43:04.806-04:00NoAs I look back at my life I've struggled with the word no. I always thought that nice people didn't use that word. That it meant you were difficult, selfish. I'm learning something quite the opposite.<br />
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Moms In Touch is this year and it's got great women in the town. I mean really great women. Women I love to dig into God's Word with, women I laugh with, who I pray for and whom pray for me and my children. But bringing Hunter is difficult. He gets bored and our life is already super busy with preschool, Wednesday morning Bible Study and Wednesday night Awana. So, this year I think I'm going to pass. Every time I think about going, I get stressed. Jesus said "His yoke is easy and his burden is light." Yet, my yoke and my burden don't feel light. So, I'll go next year. To make a decision, even though it appears so insignificant, is huge for me. <br />
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Then there's the issue of a greater no. The people who are in our lives that sometimes truly cause us nothing but pain and sorrow. What do you do with that? Do you allow them to keep hurting you? Do you keep quiet so you're not perceived as the "difficult one"? I've been wrestling with that as of late. My instincts is to be a good girl, to keep quiet and to accept people and their flaws, to "understand" why they do what they do. But, something in me is changing. It's just not willing to stand by and let people have their way. I am growing fiercely protective over myself and my children. I'm beginning to see that it's okay to keep people out of your life if they don't even try to bring joy, support, love. If all they expel is toxicity, then why would I expose myself and those closest to me to that? And I'm starting to believe that I am worth something, that Someone paved the way for me just like He did for everyone else.That I have a voice and I can use it.<br />
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That it's okay to say no. Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-67950926861733262752011-08-07T23:11:00.000-04:002011-08-07T23:11:22.733-04:00My little adventure..Well, I got to go to New Hampshire yesterday morning and I stayed over last night all by myself. It's amazing how anxious and nervous I was. I discovered that I felt very vulnerable and alone. I got to go to one of my favorite places in the world, Keepsake Quilting. It's this amazing quilt shop in New Hampshire 4 hours from home filled with absolute treasures. I just love to feel fabric - literally put a bolt in my hands and just stare at it and lovingly run my hands across it. I met up with a friend and we had a wonderful dinner. <br />
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I went to a terrible movie, The Change-up. I just had a feeling like I should go to dinner and then back to the hotel room but, my goodness, I just am like a dog with a bone sometimes. I was bound and determined to suck every opportunity out of that day and, by golly, I was going to see that movie. I actually walked out of it, it was so vulgar and gross. So, I finally made my way back to the hotel and what a room I had! It was beautiful and spacious and the only drawback was there was no tub, only a shower. It is the 21st century, right? Where was my bathtub?<br />
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I laid on the bed, had a pepsi and read my book and finally took a deep breath at 9:00 at night! It was luxurious to say the least. The only times I cried was when I was at the quilt shop and I just felt so very far from home and how I would love to tell Sean so many nuances of my trip. It was an adventure and I actually learned a lot about myself on my little sabbatical. I'd love to make this a yearly thing where I leave my children with really wonderful people and I go somewhere all by myself. For just one day. Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-46329502493752364502011-06-29T18:06:00.001-04:002011-06-29T18:08:19.660-04:00Raising HunterToday Hunter brought me to tears. What a complicated, beautiful, amazing little child that roams the halls of this house. Tonight Hunter wanted Kool Aid before dinner and I told him no. Never a good thing when Hunter hears no. The customary fit followed where he screamed, he stormed off and he slammed his door. These scenarios used to leave me wanting to run for the hills but I've learned to take them in stride. Raising a child is a privelege and one of the great benefits is that as a parent you KNOW your child so well. So, he sputtered and clamored but then he did what he does best. He came out about five minutes later and hugged me from behind and told me he was sorry. Such maturity from my brand new 4 year old. So, I sat with him and held him so tight and thought about how many times Sean would say to me, "Oh, boy, Hunter's just like me when I was little." Thankfully, I knew how that man turned out - and so Hunter will turn into a pretty spectacular man. I'm grateful that when I look at Hunter I see his father. I see his Dad's beautiful blue eyes, his lips, his temperament, his speed in telling me that I am beautiful. <br />
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I've been blessed beyond measure with my two little boys. Every parent should raise a John. When I forget his snack in his lunchbox he says, "that's okay Mama." When I ask if a woman on tv is pretty he says, "Yeah, but you're way prettier." He is easy peasy lemon squeezy. Now, my Hunter has fought me every step of the way, but just as everyone should have a John, they should also have a Hunter. He's taught me the beauty of an apology, the servant-like attitude in which he takes care of John and he loves with a ferocity. But the main thing he's taught me is that people really rise to the occasion if you just give them a little time. I can't wait to see the kind of men John and Hunter grow into.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-41452685512386510172011-06-19T23:28:00.001-04:002011-06-19T23:29:30.860-04:00FailureToday was Father's Day. And because I know that this day could have been difficult for my boys, I planned. I had this idea that they would make Sean a beautiful card and I would buy balloons, attach the lovely artwork and we would send them off to heaven in grand style. <br />
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Did the balloons leave the ground with the card attached? <em>No</em><br />
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Did Mama have to take the card off the balloon and have to send it up sans card thereby ruining the special moment? Y<em>es</em><br />
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Did the balloon then get stuck in a tree? Y<em>es, momentarily</em><br />
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Did I then take the kids to Chuck E. Cheese and then the power go out? Y<em>es</em><br />
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What a day. Thankfully, the kids didn't really care about the cards as much as I did and they shouted up to the sky "I love you Daddy" a million times and the power came back on and really wonderful people made us feel a little more like family today. So, it is true that all is well that ends well. <br />
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Today I read a quote "Fail, fail again, fail better." I keep rolling those words around in my head. I feel sometimes like the gravity of this situation will crush me. That I will monumentally screw up my children. But as they lay their heads down at night and I gather them close to me and apologize for my missteps and pray for them and tell them how very much I love them, that maybe we'll get through this together. Our knees will be skinned, our feelings will get hurt, we'll cry and we'll laugh. But, I'm not going to give up. God has simply entrusted me with too much.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-29058253331185403282011-06-16T15:04:00.000-04:002011-06-16T15:04:10.078-04:00I goofedToday I messed up. Big time. I got caught up in the hype of the e-readers and I just felt like I HAD to have one. And because I am who I am, I had to go big time. I didn't just buy the $100.00 Kindle, no I had to buy the $300.00 color Nook. I'm turning 40 in 15 days, I deserve it, right? I've had a rough year I deserve it, right? It's amazing the excuses we come up to justify a foolish purchase. You know that same voice that sometimes yells at us? Well, mine was screaming at me when I was leaving Best Buy with my hot little purchase in hand. But, again because I am who I am, I ignored it. And now I regret it. <br />
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This was only about an hour ago. Maybe two. I came home and sat down to enter all my information and decided I HATED it. I didn't just dislike it or thought I'd get used to it. I hated it. See, I'm a library girl <em>through and through. </em>I go to at least my library or an area library once or twice <em>a week. </em>I love that I can get a brand new movie <em>for free</em>, five or six dollar magazines <em>for free, </em>and don't even get me started on the books!<br />
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Just yesterday I went to see a friend who lives half an hour away. I already scanned the library website and came home with five books and ten magazines. A library half an hour away.... Did I mention they were free? And I just can't wait to go back and find some more treasures. <br />
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The e-books surely would have saved me time and money and gas. But, they would have taken away the hunt. And today I've discovered that's what I love. Scanning the Connecticut library database to see which library has my tv series or book that I am dying to have in my hands. And then driving and praying that someone didn't find it and take it out before I get there. Thanks Nook. You seem great but you're just not for me. And this girl needs to remember who she is a little more often.<br />
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So, in half an hour, I'll be driving back to Best Buy. I can't have this thing in my house for another minute.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-12749006249841942302011-06-12T10:28:00.001-04:002011-06-12T10:38:43.420-04:00A Flip Flop SwapThere's a blog <a href="http://lyryn.com/">here</a> that I have been loving to read. A wonderful woman who has faced some really challenging things with grace and strength. One day she started a flip flop swap and like so many things recently I have found myself saying "why not?" to things I wouldn't normally.<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Since my Sean passed away in January life is completely different. I have in some ways consciously gone out of my way to do different things, to branch out and explore things so that I wouldn't die along with him. He is cheering me on, I just know it. And even though it may seem like a small thing, I did the swap. I wanted to meet some new people and find some interesting new blogs to read. To put myself out there. To expose this little blog I've tried for so long to hide from the world. I'm glad I did. I got such a cute pair of flip-flops and found such a great new blog to read. <a href="mailto:jenlovesscottt@blogspot.com">Jen</a> is someone I know I would love to sit down with a Pepsi and chat!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Here are my new flip-flops that have already gone to Target, the grocery store and lots of places in between ~</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"> </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxW9ircIIe9aqvX1knZHMcRNFQBFTobKfSRDfZju15sSAY6nL6OzQ7g7HXx9HvfEuOs5_eyRTZvvAmqcEBolllHnvzex3jvPRCCCYzPcC9YXDm_AymSNGzDuhEhDouIA6hGye_uSAQz8/s1600/IMG_0157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxW9ircIIe9aqvX1knZHMcRNFQBFTobKfSRDfZju15sSAY6nL6OzQ7g7HXx9HvfEuOs5_eyRTZvvAmqcEBolllHnvzex3jvPRCCCYzPcC9YXDm_AymSNGzDuhEhDouIA6hGye_uSAQz8/s200/IMG_0157.JPG" t8="true" width="150" /></a></div>Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-65831314877300040752011-06-09T23:15:00.004-04:002011-06-09T23:24:49.388-04:00Young Authors Night<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe81LXWre6WCg1cFxFpaQ_Kj0aPGPHneyGc1myAixMc9W2in1BgWdCQuCF9IwVZ4HCFmiqxxqx9tpt7cewnjM02I8LW2HySiIekA0Z5RNbb3S92EWqsqMH7wsBjqszfJBvH9gJ5M9ObHg/s1600/IMG_0146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe81LXWre6WCg1cFxFpaQ_Kj0aPGPHneyGc1myAixMc9W2in1BgWdCQuCF9IwVZ4HCFmiqxxqx9tpt7cewnjM02I8LW2HySiIekA0Z5RNbb3S92EWqsqMH7wsBjqszfJBvH9gJ5M9ObHg/s320/IMG_0146.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Npl0ug72jr_GjwkXrvcnwdgrsjRvmEG1W33EHQhay_JyclqmtM8dbO09bOCVg-_YeVESp06iNMowFMwMVh7xMTRplHYs9NN1ERwZ9HkuGcus66K8mdzAgN7dWPn_bunkn1SjNTk8TjU/s1600/IMG_0150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Npl0ug72jr_GjwkXrvcnwdgrsjRvmEG1W33EHQhay_JyclqmtM8dbO09bOCVg-_YeVESp06iNMowFMwMVh7xMTRplHYs9NN1ERwZ9HkuGcus66K8mdzAgN7dWPn_bunkn1SjNTk8TjU/s320/IMG_0150.JPG" t8="true" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6hUolNYh6wOY4hwfnuvg2-pfcqkYaPitI2QeuKuBtESnHCeGlmAAxvYBCGf3vuUQGQEF1FtxBPZkCxj1yFbP7h0zGNH1W3wsHEo2WYYZO6RL0tfQSBfYEMuQtqKlL9KM77v-vv-TTwz4/s1600/IMG_0149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6hUolNYh6wOY4hwfnuvg2-pfcqkYaPitI2QeuKuBtESnHCeGlmAAxvYBCGf3vuUQGQEF1FtxBPZkCxj1yFbP7h0zGNH1W3wsHEo2WYYZO6RL0tfQSBfYEMuQtqKlL9KM77v-vv-TTwz4/s320/IMG_0149.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>Last night was Young Authors Night at school. I love John's class. It is filled with really special and unique kids. The parents all gathered to hear their children's books. I was doing fine. I dressed in black shorts and a red shirt to honor Sean as his high school colors were red and black (a fact he always used to tell me when he saw that combination). A dear friend took Hunter and we were off. No tears, no sadness. Just excitement to hear John and have some special time alone with him. <br />
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Then I saw Mrs. Pasiuk. I don't have the words to describe what John's teacher has come to mean to me and how I would not have survived this year without her. I honestly don't think John would have either. She has been our anchor and strength during the hardest days of our lives. I put John on the bus every single morning knowing that I was sending him to a place where he would be loved and cherished. To a mother who feels like a lot of times she is stumbling through widowhood there can be no greater gift. <br />
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I digress. I see her in the hall and I lose it. She gives me a genuine hug. I have come in my life to know the difference. I know the hugs that aren't heartfelt, the ones people think they have to give you. This one was one out of love and understanding. She whispered words of comfort and I was ready. I sat near John's seat and the room mother graciously sat in the one for Sean so I wouldn't be alone. What a thoughtful and kind thing to do for me. <br />
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It was amazing to see what John had created. He dedicated his book to Hunter "because he brings me stuff". How appropriate. I literally could not have been prouder of that boy.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-71458577095996364032011-05-26T23:04:00.003-04:002011-05-26T23:17:49.031-04:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNTecXCz3dZH6GZmy97_b6RDGNa4SsDRAb6fen0HTkRAsB9ZorLNZqAHZDUSIaATTGwgzsgoWL5yCILQ4MgwINGQa7bTkKkmH3NKt_7C6Buiizw5HJhQELAl3gNZ6b3tXSqgu27_4MP74/s1600/249295_10150316053042538_738562537_9939139_5413738_n%255B1%255D.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611229865602085522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNTecXCz3dZH6GZmy97_b6RDGNa4SsDRAb6fen0HTkRAsB9ZorLNZqAHZDUSIaATTGwgzsgoWL5yCILQ4MgwINGQa7bTkKkmH3NKt_7C6Buiizw5HJhQELAl3gNZ6b3tXSqgu27_4MP74/s200/249295_10150316053042538_738562537_9939139_5413738_n%255B1%255D.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>We celebrated Hunter's 4th birthday on Sunday. It was an undertaking, the first time doing one without my love. Thank God I have these really amazing people around me who listen to me and arrive 4 hours before the party and hold my hand through it all. I would be utterly lost without them.<br /><br />I was doing fine. I really was, holding up much better than I thought it would. I tried to be smart, see, every invitation to bring something or help was politely declined because I figured the busier I was the more I could ignore the giant elephant in the room. And it worked until Sunday morning. The house was quiet, the boys were sternly told that Mama was busy and did not need disturbing. I set about to make my potato salad. And the tears came because I realized in that moment that I would never eat Sean's cole slaw again. That man had a gift in the kitchen and even his <em>cole slaw</em> was divine. I read that you don't just miss that person you miss the life you had with that person. And it's true. Never again will I hustle and bustle with my husband preparing a birthday for our boy. Never again will I hope and pray there is some left over. Never again will I have his help.<br /><br />But, I don't want this post to be all sadness. No, there is a boy in this house to celebrate. He is Hunter Gabriel and my goodness, he's the best. He tells me every single day that I am beautiful, that he loves me, that I am the best. He is also the same boy who gets so angry at the drop of a hat and just needs a few minutes alone to pull himself together. The same little man who will come to me and actually use the words "Mama, I was so wrong." How those words will bless his wife someday. He is a superhero and he constantly saves his princess. He is rough, he is tumble, he'll eat anything that comes across his plate and I'm so glad every day that he is mine.<br /><br />.</div>Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479416212759015759.post-15407030128009473952011-05-18T08:02:00.003-04:002011-05-18T08:10:25.569-04:00DreamSince Sean passed away I have only dreamed about him once. Last night<em> </em>I had another. It's starting to get fuzzy but I dreamt that we were having a really fun time somewhere and I knew that he was sick. Looking at the joy on his face I thought he couldn't possibly know he was dying. So I finally summoned up the courage to tell him and he already knew. It just blew me away. When I asked him how he was managing to have fun in the midst of it he told me he didn't want to waste any time. He told me he just wanted to enjoy what little time he had.<br /><br />I don't really know what this dream means. Am I supposed to be learning something from this? Or is this just a commentary about the way he soldiered through his illness? I don't know.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15778479130706449505noreply@blogger.com3