Friday, November 1, 2019

Stellaluna

Yesterday was Halloween.  As a kid it was so exciting to bring our costumes to school and and have a parade. Each class came to the gym, when every one got there, Kindergartens led the festivities and a teacher would play some fun silly kid music (probably on a cassette tape, yup I'm dating myself.) We would walk around in a circle for a few minutes then, the next class did the same until our tiny rural school of K-5 all got to display their costumes (teachers too, they always came up with something fun.) There was never a scary, morbid or evil part of Halloween in my child mind. It was all costumes and candy! There was never a day we wanted to live "in town" more than Halloween. Handing out candy seemed like a glorious treat and my sister and me. We would always think, "someday we are going to live where there are trick or treaters."  Then, the day was over and we went back to riding our horses on a 7 acre spread, playing, "dog show" on our front lawn and eating picnic lunches on a large rock in our woods we called, "the picnic rock."

Fast forward to adulthood.  I was married and living in a second story apartment, no trick or treaters.  But, I was getting closer! We soon purchased our starter house and when October 31 rolled around it seemed like we lived in a prime trick or treating community.  However, we spent that evening with every shade and curtain drawn shut and the lights out except for the dim glow of our television which was debated even turning on lest anyone think we might be home.  Mookie, our dog, spent the evening barking at all the funny kids walking by, having the time of her life, as my heart silently broke.  That is not the actual point of this blog though so moving on. 

Each year, at the library where I work, the 'story time' children dress up during Halloween week and trick or treat around the library.  I never really had any fun with it until this year when I pulled out some bat leggings and a matching shirt I found on clearance last year.  I got myself a bat wings headband and decided since I worked at a library and it was a story time parade I would be Stellaluna (not just any old bat, a bat with a purpose).  I even checked the book out (Stellaluna by Janell Cannon) and had it sitting on my desk in case anyone was interested in checking it out.  Apparently, as always, my nerd side kicked in and I was the only one excited about the book.  I totally didn't care, I was living the dream, handing out fruit snacks, dressed as a bat, promoting literacy on Halloween.



But, let me tell you why I chose Stellaluna.  Of course, I had "bat-wear" I wanted to sport but, I also truly do love the story of Stellaluna.  It is about a fruit bat and her mother.  One night, they were attacked by an owl and mother bat's wings became too tired after fending off the owl to hold Stellaluna and she dropped from her mother's protection.  She landed on a tiny branch. Hanging upside down for as long as she could she finally became too tired and dropped. She dropped right into a bird's nest.  Not knowing what to do she climbed out of the nest and hung upside down from it while the other birds sat chirping for food. Stellaluna thought the idea of eating grasshoppers was revolting but finally out of desperation she ate what the mother bird fed her. 

The baby birds became curious of Stellaluna and tried hanging upside down from the nest too.  When their mother returned home she scolded them for behaving that way and told them that was not what birds did.  If Stellaluna wished to remain, she too would have to act like a 'real bird', staying awake in the day, sleeping at night, sitting up and eating grasshoppers.  Without options Stellaluna did as mother bird told her and acted like a 'good bird'.  When the birds were grown and the nest was too crowded, mother bird told them it was time they learned to fly.  As she let them go, they discovered indeed they could fly. Stellaluna could too, although she quickly learned she couldn't land gracefully on her feet like the other birds.  She was determined to practice all day.  The other birds became tired but Stellaluna was determined and continued on without them. 

That night Stellaluna found a branch and fell asleep, hanging from her 'hands' not her feet.  She awoke to a voice asking her why she was upside down.  Confused the other bat explained that bats slept hanging from their feet so she was actually sleeping upside down.  More bats gathered in awe.  Stellaluna told them her story and one bat began to question the events of her life.  The older bat quickly realized it was Stellaluna, her child.  She quickly began to teach her all the ways of a fruit bat.  One day Stellaluna went back to the nest she had landed in.  She found her bird friends and insisted they come meet her bat family.  The birds tried to fly at night with the bats but, of course, failed miserably, this time needing Stellaluna to save them! In the end, they decided they were very different but they were most certainly still friends. 

My childhood seemed more like the safe nest of the birds that cared for Stellaluna.  While adulthood, I can more readily relate to being Stellaluna.  Being dropped into a similar yet unfamiliar world.  Both before and after my aneurysm.  What I really needed to do was be given the chance to "leave the nest" and find out I could actually fly with hubby by my side, of course!! Life dropped me in a good place, it just wasn't where I was meant to fit.  It would begin to feel too crowded. Flying to something better, something that fit me, the me I was created for, was how it had to be.  Before my aneurysm I felt forced into a world of a crowded nest eating grasshoppers, staying there because I didn't think I had a choice.  Sure I survived it, although it left me with a terrible taste in my mouth.  Not to worry, my aneurysm would force me out of the nest and leave me literally relearning how to live.  Things were different now and I could never go back to the nest I didn't belong in.  So now I've "found my place in the world" but it doesn't mean I have to leave the others all behind, I am different, life is different.  We can think it is such a mystery that we are so much alike and so different too, as Stellaluna and her bird friends discovered.  But, we can know for sure we are still friends, a part of each other. And, it's okay that hubby and I fly together in our own uncrowded nest.  Each bringing what is ours and leaving the rest.    

Sunday, May 12, 2019

Scarlet Letters

This post started out as one about opinions.  Specifically, one day when I became overwhelmed by the strong opinions of others around me and on social media.  As a highly sensitive person (in the words of my therapist, "wow, I've never seen a score that high.") I tend to take everything too personally. But, Mother's Day, I dread for weeks before it comes. I have a wonderful, selfless mother.  She made sure we had a great childhood.  We went to Story Time at the library, read all the classic children's books, always had a balanced diet, played outside in our expansive yard and made up our own "castle" in the woods. She was a teacher and a mom.  Yet, I never once ever remember feeling neglected. We always ate supper as a family and had clean clothes to wear. I don't know how she did it but it gave us the opportunity to have horses and go to a good college. Sure we spent a few days each summer in either her classroom or my father's (also a teacher.) I remember liking it.  There were plenty of things to keep us occupied while they prepared for a new school year.  FIRST, remember that my brain is literally stuck in 2005. Now, fast forward to 2002 when I got married to hubby with my degree in Elementary Education.  I was very much a people person and saw the tremendous impact both of my parents had on their students even years later.  Even in college though I had this sense that God had some sort of different plan for my life.  I had no longing to be a mom like most of my friends did and if you ask any of those closest to me at the time they will tell you I always knew I'd end up different.  I thought I might be called to adopt a child with special needs or something like that. But, get married and have kids? NOT for me I sensed.  Maybe teaching was where I would leave my impact?
My hubby knew this when he married me. He was okay with God's plan. We were okay with God's plan.  I am overly sensitive. I think the day we returned from our honeymoon was when the pressure about kids started.  I was 22, hubs 23. We had plenty of time to just be married since our entire relationship was a long distance one.  The brazen pressure about children shocked me, frankly.  I grew up in a family and church that valued children but left you alone about them.  Now the pressure was all around me. I had no capacity to handle it.  I began to feel like a "bad person." Was there something wrong with me?  And thus, the battle began.  Even at Christmas a little stocking was hung and paraded around wondering when it was to be filled. I couldn't escape it.  Yet, I still had this sense that something different awaited me.  So, I waited but the pressure grew into resistance, resentment, self-preservation, bitterness, sin.  And oh how I dreaded Mother's Day when I felt nothing but judged and pitied. I didn't want to be either.  I felt like poor Hester with that scarlet letter standing in the town square, everyone judging her for what she did, her mistake.  Since according to the critics, the only plan for a married woman is to have children and raise them, but even still give a girl a couple years before the pressure starts!. There was no room for me.  I didn't fit. I began feeling even worse about myself.  Did I miss something? Were they right?  I knew none of them were, but I lacked the maturity to see it for what it was;  their problem, not mine. I was seeking the Lord's will for my life, whatever that may be. Except now it was my problem too, because I was so angry about it.  I was a mess, coming unglued. It was effecting every part of my life now, and I had no idea how to fix it or what to do.  So I stood there feeling like Hester with a J(judged) and P(pitied) written on me, real or imagined, that is what it felt like to me.  Then, my aneurysm...............the different plan revealed!
This year is the first year I actually felt a measure of peace about the day.  We went to church (a different one than 2002) and had a nice quiet afternoon to ourselves. I took a nap with my little Terrier mix, Pippi and avoided Facebook at all the overly emotional sentimentality I knew I would find. It makes me uncomfortable in general.  I celebrated Mother's Day with my mom last weekend and hub's side last night. I walked out of church and shed those letters.  God's providence has prevailed as it always does. I am fully accepted and whole in Christ and gifts withheld turn into unexpected blessings.

Happy Mother's Day to all my mom friends and family.  Thanks for doing what you do and letting me be me.