Taking the Blame- With Tears

In my last post I apologized to all those who felt I had ruined their lives by reading their blogs, sharing my support of their blog, reacting or commenting on their blog or being the cause of one blogger calling another with a question that made them uncomfortable, even though they had been excited to share their thoughts about the very thing they were asked about. I don't know if any of the ones affected have even read my apology or if it makes a difference to them, for none of them have responded in any way. What does matter is that I was willing to say I am sorry. The next step, of forgiveness is up to them.

The silence of others has given me a lot to think about. It has given me the chance to once again look at what those close to me believe about me and what they expect of me. Fair warning, this may sound like I am depressed, but I am not, at least at this moment. I am however willing to be truthful and honest about my feelings for a few minutes.

My family, and even new friends, are willing to make me the scapegoat for something that wasn't all entirely my fault. I may have played a part, but I was not the one that gave the specific information out that caused the problem. I alluded to a relationship, but did not divulge the name of the party I was protecting. The one that broke the link and gave out the name was the person's own family member who may or may nat have known better. But if they can blame me, they don't have to feel betrayed by family. It is much easier to blame a so-called stranger than someone you know and love. Besides blaming me allows them to continue their relationship with their loved one as it was before the incident. Also blaming me, others can pretend they had no part in whatever they perceived happened. I am also sure that my family members that spoke to those who think they were hurt or offended told them that everything was my fault anyway or that I would take the blame for everyone on my shoulders, for they know I will, not just the blame, but the pain that goes with it.

I guess I have taught my children well that whatever they want to say to me is OK. Whatever they want to accuse me of doing or being, or saying as they perceive it is OK, as long as they ask one important question. "Are you going to be OK?" As soon as I say, "I will be" they are off the hook. They can then say whatever they want, however they want, express their opinions however hurtful and then turn away without any other thoughts or worries. They know I will keep any comments to myself that may seem to me like they would be hurtful back., so it is safe for them, knowing they I will not hurt back. I listen but I don't fight back. I allow them the feeling of being right, even if they are so far off base it is unbelievable, rather then fight with them or try and change their thinking. Then they go back to life while I work through the pain, the tears, the feelings and find my way back out of the sorrow. They have seen me bounce back time and again, find the strength to work through the feelings and the tears, and then go on loving them unconditionally. Even my grandchildren have learned the same lesson, hurt, ask and then walk away and don't look back or care because grandma is strong and even if she is hurt won't come back to hurt you, but will keep on loving just the same as she always has.

Right now I have a lot of anger, unexpressed and kept from those I could direct it at. My anger or frustration isn't something that at this time will make a difference to the others involved anyway. Besides, expressing it to them would just be seen by them as not understanding, not accepting, not supporting, not loving or not having faith. The feelings would not recognized as what they really are : loss, abandonment, fear, helplessness, conflict with faith and testimony, confusion, or pain. I have taught my family well that it is OK for them to have anger, but not to expect it from me. Mom and grandma will just cry her way through the feelings silently. She will be angry at herself and maybe at others, but they won't have to feel any guilt or take any blame or feel any sorrow for things said or done. They can just go on pretending life is good and they are perfect in the way they handle situations and relationships.

I guess the bottom line is this, like so many times before, I will take the blame for what is not mine so others will not have to feel the pain of doing anything wrong. I will not defend myself or speak up for the truth, because they other person may not be able to handle the feelings that might result. Once again I will allow others to throw the burden of blame on my shoulders so their burden will be light because I know I am strong, but don't know where they are emotionally or mentally, and don't want to risk their happiness. Once again I will be the scapegoat, the reason for someone else's trials and tribulations so they do not have to look at themselves and take responsibility for their own actions or their own results. I will love them enough to take on all the suffering so they can experience peace, value, contentment and life as they desire. I will continue to love them unconditionally, whatever the pain or price, and may or may not ever know that love back from them. I will continue to love them, whether I hear from them or not, for that is who I am. I am their mother, their grandmother, their support or their friend. I am- ME.

Apologies and Love

I wish I could say it is funny, but right now I can't, that sometimes loving someone gets so mistaken for something else it destroys what is good and leaves sorrow and grief behind. . I just received a call that has me in tears. Tears due to love for all those involved, even the ones that started as strangers but became special because of what they shared from their hearts. Now because of the misunderstandings and fears what was special, warm, spiritual, loving, genuine and wonderful will be wrapped up and made private. What brought comfort and joy to many will now be hidden, guarded and protected. Where love, guidance, support and encouragement might have been given and received, now there will be caution and regret and heartache. Blogs that were openly shared because of the excitement of sharing life, love and daily joys or sorrows will no longer be available except to a select few. I may never again share in the happiness and joys of some people I dearly love.

Why all of this? Because someone shared a blog with me they thought I would enjoy, which I did. On that blog they shared some others they were following. There were two that I found especially entertaining, informative and enjoyable. During the Christmas holidays the mother at one of the sites shared how much she enjoyed doing crafts with her children. and the kinds of simple crafts she was doing with them. Her enthusiasm and how much her children were enjoying making their pictures and such, reminded me that even the simplest crafts for the youngest hands are just as precious as any grand gift and that there is no limit to age when creativity is involved. Because of her sharing I took the time over the holidays to let my grandson do a few Christmas crafts in an effort to entertain him. Thanks to an idea from this young mother, I helped my grandson make a Christmas tree, make a Christmas picture, paint some ornaments to take home with him, and even make what his mother called his snow blizzard picture.

Another layer deep, from the above blog, was a blog she was following. This blog was written by another young woman. The first time I read this blog, I felt drawn back to it. There was a special sweetness and spirit that I felt each time I read about her testimony and her beliefs. One day she stated that they were making their blog private so if you wanted to continue following it, please send your email. I sent my email, and wasn't sure she would respond. She of course questioned who I was or how I learned about her blog. I told her where I had encountered it, and why I had gone to that site in the first place. This young lady was kind enough to send me a link to her next post, which I was very grateful for.

Well that one request led to her contacting an old friend, who happened to be the owner of the first blog I had started from and asking.a question that made them uneasy in a number of ways. And the owner of this site contacted someone they knew and shared their fears about who this unknown person might be. The lists of previously shared blogs are now off the site, and according to the person calling me earlier, the original site shared will likely become private as well. Since the owner of the blog has no legal obligation to share the site with me, and I have been reminded that this isn't my family anyway so there is no reason for me to expect them to share their site with me, (besides they need to protect their identiy and their family from those who might harm them) I am afraid I will lose ever seeing or hearing about them again. That is why I sit here crying.


So tonight I apologize to all that feel I have ruined their lives through caring about them or are frightened because of my actions or love or appreciation of what they had to share or excitement about their joy. All of their blogs were beautiful and I will miss having them to brighten my day. I wish them all happiness and joy and still send them my love. I am sorry if they misunderstood my enthusiasm or how their sharing inspired me or challenged me to share some of my own thoughts with others. Even though I thought I was being careful to not share their identities, not mention their names, my last thoughts were too close to home, too personal to not be recognized by someone who didn't until today even know this site existed, but now does, and is just trying to be protective herself. So, what I hoped might give encouragement and love has been perceived by those who I hoped to share it with the most as intrusive, disruptive and intimidating.


So now I have to decide if this blog will continue or not. I had a blog once before, and I enjoyed writing it. I had several people who followed it and it touched their lives in a variety of positive ways. Some were family and others were strangers. The blog ended when the hosting site changed their rules and offers. It felt good then, as it does now, to share love, encouragement, hope, forgiveness, gratitude, and the knowledge that if we look for the good we can find it even in the middle of trials and sorrows. I don't think I will decide right this minute. My emotions are too high, and the tears keep coming back. As I said, love, misperceived leaves alot of feelings trailing behind that need to be felt and examined.

I pray that those who need to see this will find it and know of my love for them.

3 Month Memories

I check on one of my favorite blog almost daily to see pictures of a little princess and how the little family is doing. Their last post was New Years Day so I was so excited to see that it had changed and there were new pictures of the princess and new thoughts shared about the mother's feelings and what is going on with her. I love this couple and thrive on knowing their ups and downs. They are so special, and the adoptive mother is right, this baby was chosen for them. It wasn't an accident they were chosen by the birth mother to be the couple to share this precious spirit with, for I know that a loving Heavenly Father brought them into the birth-mother's life because of who they are, their love for each other and their genuine love for her. Every time I read about how much the adoptive mother talks to the baby about her birth mother, I know again that this match was made with divine intervention, and I cry myself to know that this little girl will always know how much she is loved.

I am glad to know their prayers for the birth mom are continuing. The birth mother is starting a new path of education this term and needs their prayers as she studies and prepares for her future. What I know too, is that if she needs some extra support from outside her circle of family and friends, her newest friends will be there for her. On her blog the adoptive mother shared a blog by another birth mother. I read the blog and thought about how different the experiences of these birth mothers are. From the blog I got the feeling that that mother felt alone and excluded, while the birth mother I support has a circle that surrounds her tightly. I am sure that they both share the feelings of loss and wish they could hold their child everyday, but it helps to know that the adoptive mother is honoring the birth mother in everything she does and to be assured your child, even though a distance from you, will always know how loved and cherished she is and that her mother did give her away but gave someone else a gift of love from the center of her heart.



Anyway the little princess is growing everyday. The adoptive mother talked about doing Tummy Time and what the baby likes and doesn't like about being on her tummy. I, of course thought about my grandchildren when they were that age.

Memories once they start don't just stop with a few good warm feelings. Once the memories start to roll, both the good and the bad come flooding out and you have to sort through to find the ones you want to look at closely. Mixed with the memories of babies lying in their car seats at my feet as I fix dinner, cooing and laughing, are the memories of late nights not knowing when the baby was going to be home. Mixed with the memories of babies slumbering in their beds are the memories of them lying crying alone because his/her parents were asleep. Along with the normal smells of baby powder, lotion and clean washed hair are the smells of drugs and smoke that choked me with their strength. Happy hours of just rocking a baby in a chair or cuddling close are interrupted by that same child being yanked out of my arms in anger. Quiet Tummy Time with these babies is what I choose to remember over the fighting of the parents as they stood over them. I prefer to remember the times of seeing them playing gleefully with their toys over the times I would arrive to check on them and find them crying and alone.

Isn't it wonderful that life gives us memories? Some we look at and say, "I am so glad I made it through." Even though they may be painful to look at, we chose to keep them as memories because they are proof of our strength, our ability to face trials and solve problems and grow through struggles and challenges. Other memories we review and keep because they bring back the laughter and joy we sometimes forget we had or do not always take the time to look for in our busy lives right now. Those memories remind us to lighten up and enjoy life while it happens, for the moments with children as they grow are many but short, never lasting as long as we wish, but always bringing a smile.

So as I think about years ago and the babies of that day, I will choose to embrace the memories of love, laughter, joy, fun, peace, and calm of those days and hold onto some of those feelings to carry me through all the current todays of the week. As I think about the babies of today and reflect on the ones of my past I will notice the similarities, hold tight to the love that comes flooding back, remember to laugh at the simplicity and miracle of life in whatever stage of life I am in. I will watch with eagerness as new mothers and fathers share their observations of parenthood and boast about their little princess or prince. I will remember to smile and find my own miracle moments to make new memories with.

Moment by Moment

This morning I want to thank my higher source for my ability at times to simply move from moment to moment without thought. I have learned in my home to take life moment by moment for I never know what the next moment will bring. I have to trust myself that all the parenting, spiritual and natural abilities will come into play without having to stop and ask myself what tools or lessons I am going to use, for seldom is there time to ponder on what to do.
It is probably a cliche' but a true one that sometimes one day is longer than another. I know in reality each day has the same number of minutes, but one day seems to move so quickly, time flies and moments blend together in rhythm and balance. Then there are days that seem to last forever or seem will never end, filled with moments of crisis, decisions, teaching, patience, forgiveness, guidance and responsibility. Why do days seem so different? The difference is in how I move from moment to moment, how I use the moments as they come along and who those moments are spent with.
Moments and minutes are not always the same. Every day has exactly 1,440 minutes to use. However every day does not have the same number of moments for a moment is not measured by time. A moment doesn't just pass, it occurs. A moment requires you to be present in some way for it to be. A moment can last from a few seconds to minutes, for it is the experiences or happening that defines it, not the time it lasts.
I feel blessed that the other evening I was able to move from moment to moment for most of the night with patience and faith in myself that whatever I did or said would be right in that moment There were a few moments, like when I allowed frustration and anger to appear in myself that I questioned whether I would handle the next moment correctly, but I realize that the frustration was what allowed me the strength to be firm in the next moment of confrontration and the anger gave me the desire to stand up for others in the following moment. I had to move from moment to moment without planning for between Cathy, Alex and Antonio there was to no time to think between the demands and experiences of the moments. What someone chose in one moment affected others in the next or required my presence in some way. One moment I had to decide how to deal with a 15 year old boy throwing a destructive temper tantrum and then comfort the hurt adult who is only trying to love this boy in-spite of the abuse she receives because of her efforts. One moment I needed to be firm and set a limit with an oppositional teen and the next I had to be silent as he packed to run away from home because he didn't think he should be asked to do what he was. As he stormed out the door, the moment was filled with questions and worries from those who loved him and I had to call on faith and hope, then the next moment decide which of two options would be the best use of my time, but before I could finish the project chosen, the boy returned and I my moment was filled with tears, anger and his words of despair and failure. Then on to create a new moment of caring and tenderness, filled with understanding of his pain, while showing him he could look at the same instances that were causing him pain and find the love and support that has always surrounded him. His life may not be what he would like it to be, but it so much better than he could ever have dreamt it to be. The difference is in how he chooses to look at the momement or what he chooses to focus on from the moments of his life. Then I got to move from the moments of understanding and connection to a moment of power struggle and then on to a moment of truce and then to moments of sharing things totally unrelated to the events of the earlier evening. Later moments flowed from moments of explanation to moments of request and on to to final moments of a 10 year olds day as she shared how much she loved her brother, but sometimes she had different feeleings, and how bad she felt when she had those moments of thought.
Moments moving are all too often not appreciated or recognized. I sometimes get so busy looking for an answer to my prayers of knowing how to handle or change something that I don't see my prayer is already being answered in how I am blessed in simply following inspiration, staying or creating peace and harmony amidst chaos, confusion and anger. Like others I am looking for a miracle to occur when what I really need is already being given to me moment by moment without my being aware I am being given the miracles in experiencing peace, patience, understanding, gratitude, forgiveness, strength, tolerance, love and countless more gifts and abilities.
Again, I express gratitude today for the moments of my life. I may not appreciate them all as they happen, but I know I am given them as a gift. How I choose to look at the moments as good or bad is up to me, for they have happened and continue to be given freely to use. I acknowledge that I receive far more than I am ever aware of or could express.

Makeup Mess or War Paint

I have said being a grandmother is never boring, especially if you have a 2 year old whirlwind that spends most nights at grandma's house while his mother works the night shift. This particular whirlwind, Devan, helped grandma start her day with a laugh and a reminder of the difference a few seconds can make in life.
I was just finishing up with my blog post when he woke up. He was kind enough to turn on my light for me, and sat down next to me on the bed to see what I was doing. I handed him my granddaughters "Little Foot" dinosaur to play with. I saw him bend over and open one of the drawefs in the nightstand on that side of the bed, but told him to not touch, and didn't think he had. I laughed at him when he picked up the big makeup brush and started tickling the nose and tummy of the stuffed animal he held. I don't recall hearing him unzip my makeup bag, but the next thing I knew I heard him say cute, and he handed me my open lipstick. I took it from him, put the lid on, and asked him where the bag was and told him not to play in it. He then handed me the bag and the open brush to my mascara. I took it from him without even looking at him and started picking up the rest of the makeup he dumped on the bed as he handed me the bag. He handed me the compact and mirror and said "Cutte, Mandma, Cute." When I looked at the mirror to see cute I saw a two year old face covered with streaks of lipstick and mascara, with hands to match. It was one of those moments when you don't know whether to start scolding about how bad he was, or to laugh at how silly he looked, or to cry because you have a horrible mess to clean up, or worry about what his mother is going to do or say if she sees him like this. Because I had just been writing about the calling of being a grandmother I chose to laugh first. He really was a sight. After reclaiming all my makeup and making him sit still on the bed for a minute, I tried to take a picture of him before we tried to clean him up. All six sets of batteries I had recently put in the camera case were dead. (Another of my grandsons frequently takes batteries out of other people's equipment, uses them until they are dead, and then puts them back in the original equipment. He thinks he is being smart and the other person will think they left something on or forgot when they last replaced the batteries.) So we couldn't get a picture even though we tried. So we got up and I took him into the bathroom to try and clean him up. Now we learned how lasting my all day lipstick was. Regular bar soap removed the mascara, but not the lipstick. Dishwasher detergent didn't make a difference, and neither did household cleaner. Since we couldn't remove anything, we decided to eat some breakfast while we waited for his mother to return to see if she had any suggestions. After breakfast, since he looked like an indian with war paint anyway, we pretended we were going on an indian hunt with our bows and arrows to find animals in the woods to take home to our teepee.
His mother finally came home. Luckily she understood that he was a curious 2 year old. Of course she too tried to find out what would remove the red streaks. She tried some face cleanser without much luck, then she tried some toner which helped a little more, but still only lightened the marks. What finally worked was to scrub hard with a cotton ball soaked in fingernail polish remover. He cried and fought saying that it hurt, but she was able to get all but a few streaks removed.
Now I would like to say that he learned to stay out of grandma's makeup, but I can't. He climbed up on my bed this morning and immediately reached down and opened the makeup drawer and started to get the makeup out. He took out the bag pulled out the eyeshadow and started smearing it on his face saying "cute." Luckily today it was something easy to wash off.
He was sad because he wanted to be cute. He wanted to be indian. So I got to play with him and show him we could play indian hunt even if he wasn't "cute" with my makeup on.

The Grandma Calling

I saw the cutest picture today of a little baby on the internet . She was wearing a cute little shirt that read : "What Santa doesn't bring me Grandma will." I couldn't help but laugh, for I know how true those words are. Giving her everything of value is part of the Grandma Calling. As a grandmother myself I can speak from knowledge and experience.

Being a Grandmother is a calling. It is a calling that is earned through patience, years of preparation and experiences too numerous to count. Being a grandmother means you have the opportunity to teach and share gifts only you can give. These gifts are not always physical, but are always given with love and a desire to make sure her grandchild has everything he or she could ever dream of. The gifts may come silently and unexpected, or wrapped in pretty papers on special occations. The gifts will be given before anyone even asks for them, for inspiration is a key part of the blessing of receiving the calling of Grandmother.

Each grandmother has gifts only she can give in her own way. One grandmother may have a talent and love for music, and will give instruments, music, songs, recordings, and teach her grandchildren to enjoy all kinds of music and love harmony, not just in music but to look for the harmony and music in life and experiences. Another grandmother may have a gift of humor, She may teach her grandchildren to look for the laughter in life, the funny side of experiences or that life is a fun experience with a few side stops here and there to find sorrow, pain or results of choices for a short time. Another grandmother may have the gift of work and will teach how to serve with a gladness of heart and charity and concern for other. She may teach that work is really just a word that means doing your best at whatever you are doing using all your skills and abilities. Another may give the gift of words through books, stories, poems, educational experiences or letters. Another grandmother's calling may be teaching patience, forgiveness, humility and unconditional love. She may do this through example, support, tolerance and faith. Yet another grandmother may share her creative talents. She may teach not just the art of making something but the principle that everyone is a creator in some way, how pieces work together to make something that never existed before but gives pleasure once it is complete. She may teach a freedom of expression through the use of paper, brushes, colors, glitter and glue. Another grandmother may choose to fulfill her calling not by giving gifts directly to her grandchild, but supporting, enmpowering or encouraging the parents in ways that will affect their entire family. It might be the power of prayer, the sharing of a testimony, or experiences. It could be giving the parents knowledge of how to make it through each stage of their child's life with sanity, balance and peace. This grandmother may remind the parents to enjoy every momemt, for even though it may seem impossible to endure, she knows how soon the moments will flee and memories will be the thing they will treasure for many more years to come.

It does not matter the age, circumstances, location or reasons a woman receives the calling of Grandmother. Once accepted the calling is for her lifetime. Once received, the calling will bring a lifetime of new experience, new joys and happiness beyond belief and a new capacity to love and and endless supply of love returned. A grandmother will hold her title with pride. She will strive to honor all others called by the same name by being the best, most generous grandmother she can be, everyday in everyway.