3.27.2010

I hate Holland...

I have a confession to make.

I've been avoiding my blog.

Really.

It's not that I don't love popping over here posting and then reading comments from all of you lovely people, because I do- I really, really do. It's just that I seem to be going through something, and not the something that involves boxing up all of your worldly goods and moving into your parent's house for 11 weeks. More of a child something. A small tsunami something. A Sara something. I wrote a while back about the crashing of waves and lo and behold- they did just that. Crashed. Hard.

It started the week of the move. I knew the service processor would be stopping by to serve Sara with the court papers. I expected it. What I didn't expect was a feeling like having the wind knocked out of me when the Sheriff handed them over. With my father in law, mom, kids, and husband helping out with the move I couldn't get back to our master closet fast enough to ensure that no one heard the ugly cry that seemed to erupt from me out of nowhere. I sat there on the small settee with my arms wrapped around my knees hugging my chest and crying from somewhere deep down, dark, and scared. I finished after a while, red faced, swollen, and lighter from all of the snot loss. I had finished crying, but the feeling of being kicked in the gut stuck with me.

Thankfully, the trip to Florida allowed me to eat, sleep, read, shop, and just focus on something other than the court proceedings. During the packing process I had gone through some of the kid's old albums. One of those was Sara's baby album where someone had sent me (with all good intentions) the poem Welcome to Holland. I know what message the poem is trying to get across, but in all honesty I never liked that poem. I don't view raising Sara as a trip to a country other than the one I planned for. It's more like welcome to Mars than Holland. It's not even on the same planet a lot of times. Most times yes, but many times not. And folks, sometimes it just plain sucks.

Today I got to see Sara just like any other soon to be 18 year old girl. Her school (the district I work for) held a dance recital for all four of the high school's dance programs. Sara danced a jazz number and I was blown away by how well she kept up with her peers. She smiled, she followed along- she sparkled. I observed how her classmates helped and guided her through the show, and I was amazed at the compassion shown by a group of teenagers. The character of those kids filled the room. Sara's dance teachers welcomed and embraced Sara from the beginning, even going so far as to talk her into participating when she had said no thanks. Her teacher had tears in her eyes when she was telling me what Sara added to her dance program.

I cannot even begin to tell you how much my soul needed that. How full I felt on pride, love, and a restored faith in people in general. I'm just hoping that it will be enough to get me through the next wave.

8 comments:

  1. Something tells me you will get through the next wave. You'll get through it with grace!

    I think you need to write a book. You are a great writer.

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  2. Stacey- Thanks : ) I've thought about sitting down to write a book one of these days...

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  3. Sara is a very special girl and I don't mean in a special need sort of way, I mean she's just a great kid. But you know what, Sara is the way she is because of very special, wonderful, loving, never put up with crap mom. You amaze me and you will ride the next wave just fine. That's who you are and what your spirit is made of. And yes, people are good, sometimes you have to looks beyond the faults but most are decent human beings.

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  4. It's very hard to comment on a very difficult subject. And such a personal one at that. All I can really say is that I hope everything works out for the best.

    Much love -

    Amanda

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  5. I know you'll get through this. You're a strong woman. You raised a wonderful kid and the two of you are lucky to have each other.

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  6. *Hugs*. You are doing a wonderful job!

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  7. polishes the surfboard for you... ride the waves... just as you always have... we're here to catch if you need us...

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  8. Funny how you avoid something (the blog) when it's so cathartic.

    You've made your own way through raising Sara, the best way for you and her.

    You're gonna be fine. Crying is cleansing.

    (hugs)

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Thanks so much for popping in. I appreciate all of your lovely comments...Tricia