Christmas Retrospective

I'm sitting here in my fuzzy jammies, watching the last few minutes of Despicable Me 2 as my kids mill around and I ponder eating breakfast at 12:30 in the afternoon.

This year, I was dreading Christmas. I was estranged from my father, and we had no plans to see or contact them, other than dropping gifts on their doorstep (yes, I was planning to take gifts over - we were on the outs, but that doesn't mean I don't love them). We knew we'd have a family Christmas on Boxing Day with Hubby's parents, so there was that, but I was still not enjoying the preparations, delayed decorating, and generally felt like a humbug.

Then my dad called and changed everything.

Turns out that he'd been as affected by it as I had and when we finally got to talking about it, information came to light that showed the estrangement was the result of not getting complete information. Wow, I felt like a dolt. So, there's been some eating of crow, some hugs, some "I love yous" and a Christmas that included *all* of my family.

And that's a very good thing :)

Missing Someone Who's Still There

I miss my brother.

Oh, he's still alive, in fact, I just texted him on Sunday.

I guess it's not so much that I simply miss him, but that I miss the relationship we had. This most recent estrangement with my father brings with it considerable collateral damage; I have no real way to maintain a relationship with my mother, as she doesn't drive or answer the phone, or check her email or go on Facebook. I've also lost the relationship with my brother due to the fact that he seems to only listen to my father's side of things. He asks to hear my side, but discounts it out of hand. And I'm tired of it. So that means I have no relationship with him. I can't trust that he'll actually listen to me.

What bothers me so much about that is that he and I had *such* a good relationship leading up to the end of my first marriage. It seems that my family chose my ex-husband over me; due to poor choices on my part, I can understand them being upset or disappointed, but to be kicked out of the house I grew up in only to have my ex invited back there in front of me is pretty damning evidence that a choice was made. The pettiness with which it was done has forever broken my relationship with my family of birth, and no amount of glue will put it back together again, at least, not in a way resembling what was there before.

Actually, I miss a lot of people that were in my life prior to the end of my first marriage. Divorce really polarizes people; they choose sides, and people get hurt. I have spent the last 6 years having to redefine who I consider family and friends, and guarding my heart from the people who said they loved me unconditionally, but clearly didn't. Things changed radically for me post-breakup, and people I trusted for most of my life are gone; what relationships remain are shells of what they were, and it seems that people didn't know what to do with me once I no longer fit into the pigeon-hole they'd placed me in. One friend actually said to me, "I don't know where to put you anymore." Put me? Don't put me anywhere. Just be my friend. I don't even want people to feel like they have to choose a side. Why? Why can you not just be friends with both people separately?

 Here's the "death toll" of relationships that came in the wake:

- my best friend, who I introduced to BD, and who chose his side;
- two very close friends, that I introduced to BD, who I have barely anything to do with anymore because they were firmly in Camp BD (and continue to socialize with him);
- a close friend (and bridesmaid at wedding #1), who I am trying to remain friends with, but it is forever changed;
- my brother;
- my mother;
- my father.

There were also a number of acquaintances who fell away. And every once in a while, I mourn for those losses.

The reason I'm dredging this up is because I have a very dear friend who is going through a break-up of her own; friends are choosing sides, even after her asking them not to; friends that were hers before her marriage who have chosen her ex. My heart aches for her, and it makes these old wounds open again and I ache for those people who walked away from me. Logically, I know that if a person would walk away from me in a time of need, they were never truly friends to begin with. I know that.

But my heart didn't get the memo.

I'm so tired of crying about 6 year old hurts.

Snow Days

Ahh, winter.

Every year, the kids pray for snow, and most often, are disappointed. So it was with a joyful heart that I woke the kids on Monday morning (and by "joyful heart", I mean I turned their lights on and unceremoniously roused them at 8 AM, saying, "You forgot to set your alarm again; get up!") to snow.

The look on Secunda's face was priceless; at my insistence, she opened the door to look outside, then stood there gawping at me with this big dumb grin on her face :) It's the simple pleasures, really... Primus was less enthused about it, or at least he showed it less. I think that had more to do with him being unmedicated than anything, though. Tertius and Quarta were predictably "primate poop crazy" about it and wanted to put their snow gear on RIGHT NOW, PLEASE. I assured them that there would be time to play in the snow after the big kids got home from school.

I have found that the older I get, the less I am a fan of going outside in the snow. Perhaps it's the burgeoning arthritic pain in my hands, or the achy hips and knees from years of playing soccer and growing too fast; maybe I'm just becoming a grumpy old sod. I am more than content to sit curled in a chair by the window, hot chocolate in hand, watching the wee hobbitses frolic in the white stuff, but the thought of bundling myself up to go out there strikes dread in my heart. As an adult, snow means work to me. Every winter school day, I go outside, start both vehicles and scrape or wipe whatever cold weather impediment off the windows so that Hubby can leave for work on time (he never works extra time into his prep for things like, you know, weather) and so can we.

So, now that I am in my 4th decade on this Earth, I have come to realize that while I love how snow looks, love watching it drift aimlessly down from the heavens, and don't mind driving in it (as long as the roads are sufficiently plowed), I really don't enjoy being out in it, being chilled by it, having it get inside my coat or pants or socks; that the cold that penetrates my bones takes more than a day to disperse again really cements for me that I'm just not an outdoors person in the snow.

But in spite of that, let it snow!

Faith and Trust

For the first time in my life, I am part of a small group at my church.

Growing up Anglican, it always seemed that one's faith was something you kept to yourself and that you worked on developing a personal relationship with God without anyone else involved, except perhaps your minister.

I married an avowed atheist (BD) in an Anglican ceremony, and spent the next 8 years attending church sporadically (increasingly so as my marriage began crumbling), but practically never with my spouse - he only went to things like the Christmas eve service, and often grudgingly.

By the time my first marriage ended, I wasn't attending church at all. I felt unworthy. I was damaged goods, and felt ashamed to be in the presence of God. After asking for, and receiving, forgiveness for my transgressions, I began to feel like I could open my heart up to taking the risk of going to church again, but I felt completely disconnected with the church I'd grown up in. They didn't seem to believe what I did anymore. I was really floundering.

Then I met Hubby.

This amazing man is the child of two pastors, and had a deep, strong well of faith. When we met, he was living 2-3 hours' drive away from me. He drove down to meet me, and by the time we saw each other in person (a whole 8 days after "meeting" online, and many, MANY hours of phone calls later), we already knew we were in love. He moved to a new community at the end of that month (17 days after we met), near to his grandmother and the church he'd attended in university. One of the first things we did together was attend church together. It felt right. I felt welcome. I was not ashamed. We liked the church, but he was already spending a lot of time in my town, and by the end of November, he had a job here, so getting out to that church was increasingly difficult. So, when he moved here, we began attending church locally, at the same denomination that he had grown up in. Again, a nice church with nice people, but there really wasn't a lot there for a family with small kids. We got involved with Sunday School, and I drove the bus, but something was missing.

When Secunda was in Grade 1, we began getting to know Secunda's best friend and her family. Her dad was pastoring at a church in the neighboring community, so we started attending there. What a difference! This church seemed to be thriving, and had a lot to offer families. Even Primus, who was questioning God and faith a lot at the time, really enjoyed it and asked when we could go back. We attended semi-regularly (it's hard to get out of the habit of sleeping in on Sundays), so weren't volunteering but were beginning to feel like it was a good fit. Then our friend lost his job there. He encouraged us to keep attending if it was the place that was working for us, so I delved deeper into their position statements to find out. When I discovered that they don't feel women should be pastoral leaders, that was it for me. My beloved mother-in-love is a pastor. No way could I support a church that would turn her away. So we were at loose ends again.

Fast forward to December of last year. We were invited to attend a Christmas party with our friends, being hosted by the church they had been attending of late. Had a great time, saw a few people I went to school with there, felt welcomed. So, when our friend was invited to preach in February, we attended to support him. And over the last 9 months, we have found our church home. We've come to be friends with not just Secunda's friend's family, but also two other couples there. We both volunteered for the VBS this summer, and had fun bringing the medieval world to life for the kids. I especially loved painting the props. Primus painted castle walls; we all dug in to make it happen and it was great!

In October, our church did 40 Days In The Word, and we were all encouraged to join a small group to go through the program with. Our friend group was split into two groups, which both shrank, so we decided to join together. In retrospect, I can really see God's hand in this, as it brought the eight of us together in a way that we could really grow together. When the study ended, we chose to keep meeting weekly, and are now doing a spiritual gift survey. We've got a Christmas party coming up in just over a week, and have had a wonderful time brainstorming to find thoughtful gifts for each person, as well as the kids.

Last night, we started the gift survey, and some pretty thought-provoking questions came up. I found myself opening up in a way that I never dreamed I would, sharing my vulnerabilities with these excellent people. And that openness was met with sensitivity, care and support. It feels so good to trust these friends with my innermost thoughts and fears, especially after so many years of holding people at arms length.

This first experience in a small group has been such a positive one. I'm so glad we all chose to continue with it. Life is good, and I have 6 great friends who make it so much better!