Yesterday I was out, running errands, standing in line at the grocery store when a voice called my name. I looked up to see an old friend...a friend I went to college with and had not seen since I was pregnant with Faith. We ran into each other at the grocery store, then, too. Thanks to the technology of Facebook, she knew much of our story with Faith, but she didn't know all the details.

So there, in the checkout line at Schnucks, she said to me, "How are you? I think about you all the time and I always mean to call you or write you, but I'm terrible at communicating. I want to know what happened with Faith...I've only caught pieces...will you tell me? Will you talk to me?" Well...that was the gist of it.

Now, maybe this sounds as though she was being a busybody, but I didn't feel that way. Admittedly, I was caught a little off guard, as I stood reading "Soap Opera Digest," waiting to buy coffee and bananas. But, once I got by bearings, I was glad she asked. She quickly said, "It's okay if you don't want to talk...I just think of you so often and just want to know how you are." I assured her it was okay with me to talk, but asked, "Can I get out of line first?" We both laughed, I paid for my groceries, and we took a seat on a bench at the end of the checkout line.

For the next hour (no, I'm not kidding), we caught up. I'm sure the cashiers and baggers thought we were crazy...after all, who sits on a bench in the grocery store for over an hour, chatting like two long-lost friends, while our groceries sat in the cart in front of us? I talked about Faith...I told our story. We shared notes on some common experiences we've had and laughed about common frustrations. We giggled over our husbands who seem to have a lot in common, including their "survivalist/prepare for anything" ways - we laughed at some of the supplies we have in our house for just such an occurence. And as I sat with this old friend, I remembered why we'd been such good friends at one time in our lives. I'm not really sure why we didn't stay in touch...life, I guess. She went her way, I went mine...life got busy and it just happened. But, it was fun to see her again and talk. She hasn't changed...she still talks a mile a minute, but it was kind of nostalgic to sit with her. It made me want to keep up with her a little more frequently.

So, to this friend...I hope that we can make time to see each other more than just an occasional occurrence at the grocery store. Thank you for asking about Faith...thank you for being you and not worrying that what you might say could be awkward (a problem, I assure you, she never had)...thank you for being direct and compassionate and letting me talk about my beautiful daughter. Thanks for sharing stories of the crazies...for laughing and letting me ramble on a bit too long at times. Thank you for reminding me why we were friends, and why I'd like to be better about keeping in touch from now on.

Who knew a trip for coffee and bananas could end up reminding me of a great friend?

Erica

Just a Car

It is, after all, just a car.

My sweet, red 2001 Mazda Protege is no more. It officially has a new owner, sold this morning after some new problems became apparent that were out of our financial and emotional capacity to try and fix. So, in the last 48 hours I went from hoping we'd be able to CPR the "little car that could" once more to mourning the loss of my little car. The "go-cart." The "saki runner." "Betty-Lou." All our nicknames for my very first car that I ever bought. Ten years old and 160,00 miles. And rationally, I do know that it's JUST a car. But in my heart, I miss that little car, and I admit that I shed a few tears over losing it. Because in my heart, it wasn't just a car, but it was full of memories and my life over the last ten years.

It was the first car I ever bought. It had a sunroof, and I loved that sunroof!

Tracy and I drove to Colorado and through the mountains in that car.

Jamie and I drove to the old Busch Stadium for our first date in that car.

I've been stuck in traffic in that car more times than I care to count...once on the interstate between here and my parents' house in Ohio that had me turn off the engine and read a book for awhile!

That was the car that I brought Jamie home from the hospital in after his colon surgery five years ago. It was the car that drove us to tell his dad that Jamie had cancer.

That car took us to the hospital where we had Faith...and back home when we came home without her.

I've replaced the tires, the brakes, even the driver's side window (and many, many more parts) multiple times. There were stains on the seats and on the floormats, most of which I couldn't tell you the source of and a crack in the windshield that's probably been there for seven plus years. The front quarter panel had a dent from a fender bender two years ago. The #3 radio station preset button has been missing for years and the keyless entry on the driver's side door broke some time back.

Nonetheless...I loved that car.

I loved all that it held...the memories, the way the seat fit me just right...the way the car felt like mine and mine alone. I fit in the seat "just so" and was most comfortable zipping around town in that - despite the miles and it's imperfections. It just holds so much of my history and so many memories. Jamie reminds me that we'll have other cars that will hold new memories, and I know he's right. I know it was the right thing to sell that poor little car and let it go. Yet, I can't help feeling like I've lost a good friend - one that was unconditionally there and available, no questions asked, who's seen and done everything with me for most of my adult life. I have laughed in that car, cried in that car, maybe even napped a time or two in that car. My brain knows it was the right thing and truly, the best thing, to do. My heart will get there eventually.

It is, after all, just a car. Or not...

Erica

A morning run

I hope this finds all of you rested from Christmas. For the first time in years, we had a genuine white Christmas. Several inches fell on Christmas Eve and we had a beautiful white layer covering everything when we woke up on Christmas morning. It was, as Jamie said, the "perfect recipe...clean roads, but snow covering everything else!" We spent the day with Jamie's family and enjoyed the cacophony brought by our young niece and nephews who couldn't contain their excitement at Santa's (and grandma's and grandpa's) generosity. It was a pretty perfect way to spend the day. Our house is now a wreck, but it's a nice kind of disaster...one brought on by plenty of joy and celebration.

Laundry is going and I'm relaxing on the couch, watching an old Disney classic, "Swiss Family Robinson." I awoke at a very early hour this morning to go join in the Frostbite Series - a 5-race series held in Forest Park throughout the winter here in St. Louis. Now, I registered for this about a month ago and thought it sounded like a great way to keep myself motivated at running through the winter months. However, when I woke up this morning before 7:00 a.m. and found that the windchill was 12 degrees, I started rethinking that position. But, I got my butt out of bed and called Tracy, a dear friend who had also signed up for this madness, to make sure she was up and going. We headed out, and I am proud to say that I successfully ran 2 miles and finished the course in 25 minutes!

Now, I know that to some out there, this might be laughable...after all, 2 miles is not all that far and a 12-minute mile is not exactly a record-setting pace. But - for me - I accomplished something I've never done before. I found myself incredibly proud of completing the race at my intended pace and running the whole thing.

I have never been much of a runner. I played soccer when I was younger and through high school, but as I've gotten older, I've found running to be something I didn't think I could really do. My body didn't care for it, it hurt all the "softer" parts of my body that jiggled when I ran, and my feet practically screamed when I tried. Well, with losing weight as a goal in mind and Tracy encouraging me to start small with running 1/4 mile at a time, I have worked my way up to what I accomplished today. (A good pair of well-fitting running shoes has helped, too.) I have found a new respect for my body and a new pride in working my way up to a goal I had set. Turns out, I can run. I don't see myself as a marathoner, but I can see 5Ks in my future.

For now, I'm going to enjoy the rest of this beautiful day on my couch. I see a good Danielle Steele book, a Rams game, and leftovers in our near future. Merry Christmas! Hope you get to enjoy your day, too.

Erica

Snow Day

If you are a teacher, you will understand the joy I felt at 5:49 a.m. today when my phone rang...yes, a snow day was called. Except to call it an "ice day" would have been more appropriate. After hardly any precipitation actually falling, but doing so at the perfect temperatures onto already frozen ground, we were treated to our first ice storm of the year. A very thin glaze was left on everything...the sidewalks, the driveways, the roads, the cars. It was treacherous to say the least, and a snow day was very much called for this morning.

So, today I set about using the time. We grocery shopped (so, apparently, did everyone else) at the local store that about once a month has their $10 off $50 offer. We ran back out to get a forgotten ingredient when I started baking snickerdoodle cookies, and I have quite happily spent the last several hours baking and cooking and feeling like I am actually getting something accomplished. It is truly amazing what can get done when I don't have to go to work!

I am just about done wrapping presents...and Jamie is at Walgreens getting more tape so that I can finish. Dinner is cooking, and finishing up some school stuff is last on my list for the day. I feel rested and less stressed than I have in weeks. Now - if only I could figure out how to pick the winning lottery numbers and do this EVERY day! Happy Snow Day to all!

Erica

This Time of Year

We've had a very nice weekend...and one that felt very deserved after a hard few weeks recently. We were in Hermann for the weekend at a fundraising event for the Leukemia/Lymphoma Society that we attend every year. We wandered through the streets of Hermann yesterday and made it home before the temperature really started to drop. We went out to dinner on Main Street and drove through the beautifully lit trees...and I finally, finally felt like I was okay with Christmas being here.

I have not been myself lately...I don't feel like myself and I just generally feel like I'm in a huge funk. I am short-tempered and snippy with my students at school and with Jamie at home. I feel as though I have absolutely no patience with anyone or anything, and I can literally count on one hand the number of people that have NOT worn my nerves thin recently. I don't want anything to do with anyone...I feel as though I am hanging on by a thread.



Now, "normal" people will remind me that it's December and the holidays can be stressful...particularly when you spend 8 hours a day with 10-year olds. : ) What a joy...but in my mind, I genuinely feel like it's more that just that. I know it in my soul. What I feel isn't "normal" stress...it's my life.


Last weekend, I began crying - seriously crying - out of the clear blue, for no apparent reason. Jamie just stared at me, bewildered, because it was literally brought on by nothing obvious. When I was finally able to blubber out something about, "I don't know what's wrong with me," his response was so wise..."Erica, did you think the wound would ever heal?" Ahh...sigh...



And, duh. What's "wrong" with me isn't actually wrong...it's our new normal. It's realizing that another holiday is upon us without Faith...that my Christmas tree is without gifts for her and no one is asking me what size clothes she's in this year, (though a couple of friends have remembered her and asked what they could do to honor her, which we greatly appreciate.) It's just the emotion of the time of year, all tied up in one. It's putting ornaments on the tree, knowing full-well that those ornaments on the bottom branches shouldn't be there because we should be trying to figure out how to keep a 16-month old from grabbing onto them and breaking them. It's sadly knowing that everything we have of our daughter fits in a beautiful, hand-made cedar trunk my dad made for us for her birthday. I'm grateful for the trunk and for the few items we have - but I'm still sad that I'm not tripping on toys and wishing that my toddler would just sit still. All the normal things that parents are frustrated by - see...we would give anything for those moments. I would give anything for the smiles, the laughs, even the frustrations that I know are normal. I know we cannot have them with Faith. But there is something about this time of the year that makes it seem ever more emotional and the hole in our hearts just a little bit more raw.

This is not an easy time of year...before Faith, I never really understood why people felt so much stress around the holidays. Yes, there was a lot to get done, but my nice, normal, "Norman Rockwell" family meant that I lived a pretty stress-free life at the holidays. Now, it's different.

Now, I struggle with whether or not to send out Christmas cards this year, because I just don't really know what to say. I avoid parties and social things because they require more energy than I have. And when I go, I plan strategically and make sure I have "buffers" (a.k.a. good friends) around so that I don't actually have to mingle with or talk to new people. New people means conversation and questions I just don't have the energy for. Socializing can be exhausting...and frankly, I'd rather spend my time with Jamie or our families and close friends. With the people I don't have to entertain and can just relax and be myself. With people where no explanation is required and pajamas are an acceptable form of dress.

To someone that has not been through this, all of this may sound strange. Not that anyone expects you to get over it, but they do expect you'll be "fine" one day and move forward. They don't understand why going to parties and events is stressful and out of your comfort zone.

I don't want anyone to think we are wallowing around in our grief because we aren't. Work, going to classes, seeing friends and family, laughter - are all a part of our lives. We enjoy being with friends and our nieces and nephews, but it is not the same life...and so my energy is different, my time is different and my priorities are different. We enjoy our life, but is different. It just it what it is.

We think about her everyday...when I see a dress in a size she might be wearing, a toy she might like, or a Christmas ornament that I'm hanging FOR her, instead of WITH her...she is always there.

Take a moment tonight and cherish the toddler that won't sit still, the 3-year old that is trying your patience, the 10-year old that thinks he knows everything. Love them harder tonight...just because you can.

Erica

So much...

So much on my mind...I don't even know where to start.

First, I know it's been forever and a day since I've last written. Mostly, I've been incredibly busy...and secondly, I haven't felt very inspired. I write here when my heart leads me to do so...and lately, I just haven't gotten that inspiration...that feeling of having something that I want to share.

Oh, I have lots on my mind - just not a lot that I can or want to share.

I was watching one of my very favorite shows, "Glee" last week titled "Furt." For those of you that watch, you know the one...for those that don't - well, you should watch it and find out. Essentially, there was a wedding between two characters' parents. Kurt's dad said to the guests that one of the things adults don't tell kids is that "life can be sad." And it struck a chord with me.

I grew up incredibly, blissfully blessed and mostly unaware of the awful things that can happen in this world. I had TWO great-grandmothers alive until I was a senior in high school (they both died in their late 90's.) My dad's mom died when I was in college; his dad died just a few years ago at the age of 87. My mom's parents are both still alive and well and closing in on celebrating birthday number 87. They live 15 minutes from me and Jamie, we see them often, and I enjoy the closest relationship with them that I've ever had in my life. I have never had a friend die; the first funeral I attended was for Jamie's grandmother in 2007. I had been to many, many visitations and wakes but never to a burial until Mable died the fall after we were married. Jamie and I had SIX of our grandparents at our wedding...and we were 30 when we got married! The second ever funeral I went to? For Faith. Like I said, I have lived an incredibly blessed life. So, when I watched "Glee" last week and that line was said, it struck me...it is so true that adults never tell kids how sad life can really be.

Life can be so sad. I know many people that have suffered so much grief and angst in their life...and I certainly have felt like maybe my adult life is making up for my angst-free childhood. I know that I am lucky for not having to endure so much grief and sadness when I was young, and I certainly am thankful for the fact that my friends and family are alive and healthy, but I often wonder if I was naive. I remember my mom telling me once that when she was a child, going to funerals was "normal" and a way to see family you didn't see otherwise. It taught them that death was a part of life, while in our childhood, we never really lived through that. Did we inadvertently miss out on a life lesson because we were lucky?

I started out here tonight saying that I haven't recently felt all that inspired. Work has been stressful and feels...different. Jamie and I continue to find our way through this new "normal." Most days I think we feel like we have it figured out, but then something comes happens and I am again reminded that this new "normal" is anything but. The holidays, under the best of circumstances, can be stressful. Add the ever-present grief to that recipe and it ends up feeling like you're back at the beginning of the journey in so many ways. This is not an easy path...just when I feel like we have it figured out, I am humbled and reminded that I do not. I am reminded that all of the control I wish I could have is not mine at all. I read several blogs and I have been reminded lately that when my own strength fails me, God's strength will never fail me. When I feel at my weakest, crabbiest and most stressed out, God's grace and strength will be enough. He is enough and though I have recently felt like I am all over the place, I have been reminded that I need to relax and let God take care of me because He will. I need to have some serenity...that I can only do what I can and leave the rest up to the God that I know will carry me through. I hope that whatever you believe, you find this strength, too.

Erica

What is Romance?

I was listening to the radio on my way to work yesterday and the DJ asked, "In 2010, what is romantic?" Now, my first thought was, "Why does it matter that it's 2010? Has what's romantic really changed?"



Unfortunately, I didn't get to hear all of the answers that people called in with, but it did get me thinking...has it changed? Has our idea of romance really changed just because we are in the 21st century? Is romance really so different from 1946 when my grandparents got married?



Certainly, technology has changed many facets of our lives...the way we communicate, the way we find information, the way I teach and the way my students learn. But romance? Really? As I thought about all the things I consider romantic, I realized that most of them center around one single idea; romance is all about making one person feel like the most important person. How that is done varies, I suppose, but thinking that Jamie is romantic isn't usually about big, expensive gestures. It's about the single red rose he brought me early on when we were dating; it's the lunch he makes for me to take to work and the note he always writes for me on a paper towel that he stashes in my lunchbox; it's opening a door for me, or putting an arm around me; romance is about reminding me how much he loves me. That's what I think of as romantic...none of those things would be different in 1946 - and none of them require technology, which is good, because Jamie is anti-technology all the way! So, I ask you - what is romantic? Does it matter that it's 2010? Has romance changed?



Erica