Separating Family and Writing Work

How do you separate your writing life from your other life? When I write, I find that I focus on the task very intensely to the exclusion of everything else. When one of my kids or my husband talks to me when I am in the state of writing, my focus is broken. I also did not hear what they said, and have to have them repeat it. Then I find it difficult to get that focus back. My computer is in the dining room in a very public place in our house. My husband sleeps in our bedroom, so I don’t really have a room where I can shut the door.

My husband suggests that I get a small laptop and retreat to the library or a coffee shop where I will not be interrupted. I don’t know if that is a good idea. The time and gas spent going to those places could be spent on writing. Maybe a screen or a curtain would work. This would communicate to the family that I am working – on my writing.

I told Rick (my better half) that I find writing about our family journey tiring. He said, “That is because it is work.” Work. Writing is work. He urges me on in this work. He is the right sort of partner for a writer. But then, he knew what he was getting into when he married me. I told him when I met him that I longed to write, and I have talked about it for many years; but I had set aside that desire to raise my family. Now I am in the process of unleashing the writer within (Cec Murphy). To spend myself in writing is exhilarating and fulfilling, but costly.

Just start

My motto for this year is “Just start.” By the way, my year started in August. That is when I decided that instead of thinking about things, I just needed to get started. Or as the Nike commercial famously stated: “Just do it.”

So this summer, I joined a writers group, Word Weavers of West Michigan. And in the fall, since the Cleaver College Taxi service didn’t operate in the evenings, I started going to women’s Bible Study on Monday night and Choir on Wednesday nights. And I continued my previous activities. Some weeks, I went to Women’s Bible Study on Monday night, Word Weavers on Tuesday night, Choir practice on Wednesday night, and Quilting or Scrapbooking group on Thursday night. Then in February, I started Weight Watchers after not “just starting” for about 8 weeks. My meeting is on Saturday mornings, because obviously I have no weeknights available. I also get up at 5:00 a.m. almost five days a week and take my daughter to college and myself to work (40 hours a week).

I may have overstarted.

I have had trouble getting motivated for my Weight Watchers program because I am too tired and I haven’t left myself any margin to recoup.

So I need to set some priorities. The first decision is to limit my night time candle burning to two or three nights out per week.

Fuller Park

From 1964 to fall of 1971, we lived on Mack Street. We spent a lot of time at Fuller Park, which was a right turn on Fountain, past the Farmers’ Market, to Fuller Avenue and across the street. A ten minute walk. We would walk as a group, the four of us kids, and some neighbor kids. Sometimes I am amazed at how our mother let us go places in Grand Rapids by ourselves on foot. But always as a group.

At Fuller park, we sledded down the sled hill all winter. It was a great sledding hill. And when the snow melted, we found cardboard from a nearby business and slid down the hill on the mud. We were a muddy mess when we got home. Mom wasn’t too thrilled. But it was so fun.

There was also ice skating at Fuller park, and we rented ice skates and could buy hot chocolate. One Christmas we got ice skates. Debbie was a great skater. My skills left much to be desired. My ankles were too weak and I didn’t have the best balance (rollerskating was equally difficult for me).

Sometimes when we went to Fuller Park in the spring, summer, or fall, we would go into the little woods on the hill and play Boxcar children. One year, when the Burger King on Michigan opened, they had Whoppers of 25 cents. We had enough to buy one Whopper, and we brought to our Boxcar play area and split it up four ways. That Whopper tasted really good.

Precipice

My mother-in-law had a stroke. She lives in Lafayette, Indiana, and needs full nursing care apparently. My brother-in-law also lives in Lafayette, Indiana, and has been dealing with this by himself with his wife. We know they need help, but we don’t know what we can offer. We both work full time, we have one child in college who we take to college five days a week. Our other two adult children who live with us, are looking for work. They have high functioning autism. We have been caregivers for a long time. When we talk to his brother and his wife, it is like talking to strangers. His brother has held us at arms distance for 26 years. We are looking over the edge of a precipice. There are all kinds of sharp edges at the bottom of the precipice.

A Radical Proposal Regarding the Cost of Weddings.

I saw an article a few months ago on Yahoo implying that if you want to have a wedding, it helps to marry someone who has money. Working class people are choosing to forgo marriage because it is too expensive to have the wedding that they want. They are choosing to spend their money on a new roof. Or a vacation. Or to put food on the table. How did this happen?

I have read that $20,000 to $25,000 is a “reasonable” amount to spend on a wedding. And then there is the honeymoon. I agree with Chandler – that’s a lot of money to spend on one party. (Friends).

It is my contention that marriage is too important to the lives of children to let cost be a deterrent. And then there is the moral imperative as well.

There are radical ways to cut costs and still have a party for your wedding.

Join a church and attend – For members in some churches, the cost involves paying the janitor to clean up afterward.

Have your pastor officiate – small fee may be involved.

Prepare your own food, or don’t have food. Have cake and punch only. And this is really radical – have a potluck. Putting on a wedding can be a ministry of a church.

Borrow decorations. Go to Michaels and buy your fake flowers on 50% off. Grow flowers in your own garden. Ask other people to grow flowers for you. There are a lot of pretty flowers.

Buy your dress on clearance, or borrow one.

Have a best man and a maid of honor, only. One of my nieces chose that option. There is only one dress to choose. Limit the number of bridesmaids.

Find a photographer who needs the business enough to negotiate prices. Split the cost with your parents.

Marriage is too important to let cost be a barrier to love and making the right choice.

In 1985, my wedding cost $1,000 dollars, which was thrifty even by 1985 standards. I bought a dress on clearance for $75 and had it tailored to fit me (that cost $50). My mother bought my veil for $75. We were able to use the church for the fee to pay the janitor and my relatives helped clean up afterward. We prepared our own food for the reception. I picked 12 quarts of strawberries the morning of my wedding. The ladies of the church served the meal family style (my mother directed the cooking). We paid $375 for professional photography (the going rate was at least $1,000 in Grand Rapids, but we chose a photographer in our small town). We bought our own silk flowers and decorated the church ahead of time ourselves. We borrowed candelabras. My mother made the cake. I told my bridesmaids to wear a tea length dress in different pastel colors – choose something that flattered them and that they could wear to other events.

We have been happily married for 26 years. We had a nice party with the help of our friends and church. We were willing to put sweat equity into our wedding and it was a happy, satisfying experience.

Be radical.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have two daughters who may get married someday. This has caused me to give some thought to this subject. (We have told them we have a budget that we will spend on their weddings, if we are able).

The Village

African Proverb – It takes a village to raise a child.

Even though Hillary famously said it, it is still true. Proverbs are distilled wisdom. Many generations of people said it before Hillary did.

It is certainly true in my family. It has taken a large village to raise my children. We couldn’t have done it by ourselves. Below is a partial list of the members of our village in no particular order:

Jean Dohring, Ms. Graham, Brenda Carson, Ms. Jean, Beth Morgan, Ms. Hopkins, Kevin Gabrielse, Charlie and Becky Grimaldi, Dan and Karen Johnson, David and Julie Hinds, Mark and Lori Hinds, Tom and Deb Montgomery, Collie Cleaver, O’Deal and Leroy Hinds, Ms. Dilley, Anthony, Mindy Klein, Kristie Boone, Mr. Wier, David Britten, Peter Foote, Ms. Blanco, Mr. McKenna, Ms. Basham, Thresholds, the swimming teachers at Mary Free Bed, the riding instructors at the Equest Center for therapeutic riding,  the driving instructor at Mary Free Bed, and the list will continue as I think of more.

I am very thankful that you all have been part of our village. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

What is wrong with me – I don’t care about Iowa

The Iowa caucuses are comng up shortly, and I don’t care. Of course, for a lot of people this is just the state of things. Politics don’t mean that much to them. But four years ago, when Hillary, Obama, McCain, Huckabee, and Romney were running I was glued to the television or listening to Fox News while I surfed the web. I posted on Facebook that election night in November for me was like the Super Bowl for football fans. And it was – for years. I would sit down with my popcorn and coke and actually watch the election returns until after midnight. I didn’t participate in politics by giving money or calling people, but I did plant yard signs. I was an armchair fan.

But this year, I just can’t get into it. After the collapse of Wall Street and the loss of 40% of my 401(k), the loss of so many houses, the loss of so many jobs – I felt like I couldn’t really trust those in power. I felt I had been hoodwinked, been left in a canoe without a paddle, washed away like so much flotsam. The criminals/thieves on Wall Street used my money and the money of so many investors, small and large, as their own piggy banks or gambling funds. And the politicians were in bed with them, right and left. I used to be a cynical conservative. Now I am a disillusioned independent. Throw them all out.

My husband, on the other hand, has become more positive towards politicians. He believes Obama’s heart is in the right place and he is trying to do good for people. He believes that Boehner wants to do something good for his constituents. So does Amash and Huizenga. He is still a positive conservative.

Maybe I’ll care about Iowa if someone comes up who isn’t fake. Whose life is not a study in contradictions. Who cares more about what he believes in than that every jot and tittle that he utters or writes.

Extra time

Near the end of my work day, the firm decided that they would close down early. We were of course welcome to stay and work later. But I decided to take advantage of it. How good an extra hour of free time feels. Of course it is not really free, but it means that I have the time AND energy to do a few chores now that free up more weekend time. It means another cup of coffee in the morning and time to read the paper. It would be nice if it meant sleeping in a little longer, but my body still wakes up at 5:00 a.m. – still it does wake up.

 

Words that have sustained me.

Here are some verses that have sustained me over the years. What words from God’s word have sustained you?

I Thessalonians 5:16-18

Rejoice always, ¹⁷ pray continually, ¹⁸ give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

 We can always do the will of God. That option is always available, even when we cannot visualize beyond today.

Ephesians 2:8-10

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— ⁹ not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

What a wonderful gift indeed. This is why Jesus came to earth. It is so essential to remember that our very life, our salvation, is the utter gift of God. We did not and cannot do anything to deserve being saved.

James 1:5

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.

So many times in raising our kids, we did not know what to do. But we can be confident that our God does know. And it says right here that we should ask him. Furthermore, he will not find fault with us, but gives wisdom generously.

Jeremiah 29:11

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

When I was 25, I graduated from college.  I faced major surgery within two weeks for a large tumor on the right ovary. I had struggled with depression and insomnia during the last two years of college. It was a stressful time. I didn’t know what to do or think. After I read this verse, I held on to the Lord’s promise for my future.

John 3:16-17

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. ¹⁷ For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.

 

 

 

Rejoice, pray, give thanks.

^{I Thessalonians} 5:16-18

¹⁶ Rejoice always, ¹⁷ pray continually, ¹⁸ give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

If I have a life verse, this is it. Practicing thankfulness was the way out of darkness, out of depression, out of despair.

We were thrust into the world of special education when my oldest daughter was five years old. At the young fives qualification testing, she tested at 2.5 years in reading and math readiness. Instead of thinking about young fives placement, we were offered placement in a pre-primary impaired program. Instead of thinking about the academic achievements of my children, the sports achievements; we began thinking about slow, steady progress, two steps forward, one step back. I dreaded the beginning of the school year. And I mourned the sudden loss of dreams for my daughter. I questioned everything we had done up to that point in raising her. I wondered if something was wrong with me and/or my husband.

Within that year all three of our kids qualified for special education placement. In hindsight, we should have been able to figure out that something was wrong. There were clues.

After our oldest daughter had been in her pre-primary impaired class for a while, I mentioned my concerns about my son. He was very easily distracted. He turned the lights on and off, constantly. He opened and shut doors to the extent that we had to put spring locks high up on all the doors to keep him from shutting the doors on his sisters’ fingers. He was a screamer who insisted on sameness. Everything he possessed had to be green if there was a choice. He had to have his sandwiches cut in triangles. We should have known. We should have known.

My daughter’s teacher also felt that my son should be tested. So an appointment was made for my son. After two tests, which was all he needed to qualify for special education placement, the teachers, social workers, psychologists, and therapists felt that he should be tested more. In all, he went through eight evaluations. It was emotionally draining for me. My husband and I, along with our local school representative met with all the evaluators in one big meeting to go over the meaning of the tests. My husband did not want to go because he felt that all they were going to talk about was what was wrong with his little boy. They said he was mentally impaired, had a mild speech impairment, and had mild autistic traits. But one of the testers told us we should not get involved in the local autism society. (We received some less than stellar advice along the way).

Toward the end of my son’s evaluations, the testers suggested that my youngest daughter also be tested. At this point, I was weary of testing. I told them that they could only perform two evaluations; they could  only do what it took to know if she qualified for special education services. She also qualified for special education placement. At this point, my older daughter and son were in opposite sessions of preprimary impaired preschool; one in the morning and one in the afternoon. The teachers wanted me to bring my youngest daughter to the special school for her therapy. I said no. I cannot be stretched that much.They had a speech therapist come to my house for my youngest daughter once a week.

The first two years of dealing with all the meetings and special education therapy homework from the school took a toll on my emotional health. I was depressed and crying all the time. We became isolated from parents with normal children, even my siblings. Part of that was our withdrawal – I could only stand so much bragging about how advanced their children were.

When I thought of the future, there was a wall before me. I couldn’t visualize the future. Then God gave me this verse. Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances for this is God’s will for you in Jesus Christ. I decided that even though I couldn’t see the future laid out before me, I could give thanks, every day. I could do God’s will; I could obey God in doing this. As for praying continually, that was easy. I was doing that already, every day. Some of the the praying was questioning God’s wisdom in choosing me for this job. Some of it was crying out to God. Some of it was seeking wisdom, because God says that he will not upbraid a person for asking for wisdom. But rejoicing? That was a bit much to ask of a person. I found that to be very difficult. So I practiced what I could do, and waited for God to tell me how I could rejoice. As I began to practice purposeful, intentional thankfulness, my depression began to lift.

I have returned to this verse again and again since then.