Monday, December 29, 2014
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Hey Coach --
I've typed and deleted numerous times this post, all in the attempt to share the many thoughts running through my mind. At this point I do not feel I'm ready to put into words what I have to say. However, I found this poem and feel it expresses the many thoughts running through the heads of many students, players, parents, and fans right now. Sometimes one well written piece can better address what needs to be stated better than any article, blog, or story.
Hey
Coach—
Hey
Coach--You see that player on the sidelines with the clean uniform?
He
would like to get in the game, too.
Hey
Coach--You see that player whose grandparents drove from out of town to see him
play?
He
would like to get in the game, too.
Hey
Coach--You see that player who isn’t a naturally gifted athlete but who loves
the game of football?
He
would like to get in the game, too.
Hey
Coach--You see that player who walks into an empty house every night after
practice because his single mom works the 2nd shift?
He
would like to get in the game, too.
Hey
Coach--You see that player who saved all of his lawn-mowing money from last
summer to buy those cleats on his feet?
He
would like to get in the game, too.
Hey
Coach--You see that player whose little brother is sitting in the stands to
watch the big brother he idolizes play football?
He
would like to get in the game, too.
Hey
Coach--You see that player you yelled at during practice who works at a
part-time job every evening because his dad lost his job.
He
would like to get in the game, too.
Hey
Coach--You see that player who dreams from the sidelines each week about
getting the chance to make one big play?
He
would like to get in the game, too.
Hey
Coach--You see that player whose mom sits in the stands every game with her
camera on her lap in case her son gets on the field?
He
would like to get in the game, too.
Hey
Coach--You see that player who is going to join the army in a year to defend
this country when he turns 18?
He
would like to get in the game, too.
Hey
Coach--You see that player whose mother was just diagnosed with cancer?
He
would like to get in the game, too.
Hey
Coach--You see that player who left the locker room after the game in tears
because he didn’t get in for even one play?
He
would like to get in the game, too.
Hey
Coach--You see that kid in the stands who isn’t playing football his Senior
Year?
He
would have liked to get in the game, too.
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
I'm Worthy of a Career and True Happiness
When I was little all I ever wanted to do was grow up. I remember drying dishes while my Mom washed and telling her that life would be so much better as an adult. No matter how many times we had this conversation, she would tell me not to wish my life away.
I've been what one would consider an "adult" for almost eighteen years now. I can honestly say that there are many great moments and advantages to being an adult, but more often I find myself wishing I would have listened to my mom and not wished my childhood away. The responsibilities that come with being an adult outweigh the fun and benefits most days. For me, the toughest challenge lies in caring for my family.
All parents want the best for their children, wish to provide for them financially, wish to give them more than they had as a child, and wish to get past the point of living paycheck to paycheck. I am no different in my desires for my own children and my own family. I find myself often thinking about the many obstacles that seem to stand in the way of allowing me to feel as though I have reached this point in my life. I also find myself fearing that I may never reach the level I wish to be for my family and for myself.
From the time I was old enough to remember, I would make my much older brother play school with me. He was the greatest of older brothers! He never complained that this was an everyday occurrence, or that the pretend school day may last for hours. It was from these first playtime moments that I dreamt of being a teacher. I dreamt of making a difference in a child's life and wishing at least one child would grow up and say that Mrs. Terrell was their favorite teacher the way I say Mrs. Moore was my favorite teacher. I dreamt of decorating my classroom, laughter filling the playground, and many hugs. I dreamt of evenings with my own children after school and summers full of days off from scheduled work hours.
My road to making my dream come true was a rather difficult and untraditional one. I had taken some college classes my last year in high school, but then chose to marry my high school sweetheart within a week of graduating. Due to the health of my mother we decided to quickly start a family. Within three months of being married I was pregnant. I ended up choosing to withdraw from school due to having such a difficult pregnancy and being on bed rest. It wasn't until I had my second son and my mother passed away five years after getting married that I decided it was time to go back to college. I babysat during the day and cared for my own children, then swapped places with my husband and parent duties and headed to night classes at the local community college. I was determined to only take two years to finish my degree and maintain all "A's" while doing it. The joy I felt walking across that stage and hearing my little boys yelling for me compared to no other feeling in my life!
I quickly applied to a four year university to complete my other two years of school towards a Bachelor's degree in Elementary Education with a great desire to pursue my passion for teaching. I was able to get a Paraprofessional position within the local school district and continue taking courses an hour and a half a way to get my degree. I drove four days a week and gave up many hours with my children, knowing it was all for a career and a better future for my family in the end. In May 2005 I walked across the stage and received my Bachelor's degree and a huge sense of accomplishment and pride.
I accepted my first elementary teacher classroom position the following summer and began teaching the most amazing group of 4th graders. Unless you really know me or took the time to ask me, I doubt you know the trials of that year. I spent seven days a week in my classroom, in the hopes that I would be the best teacher I could ever hope to be. Instead, I found out about the politics and small town bullying that too often occur. My dreams of a life long career in the one area I was passionate about were taken away from me due to bullying and politics, without a second thought as to how this would impact my family or me.
I am here today eight years later. I have sacrificed, worked two and three jobs at a time, went back to school for a second degree and am currently working on a Master's, have listened to the gossip, have been labeled by others, and have received many harsh comments by so-called "friends". By my close friends I have been praised for never giving up, have been told I am one of the strongest people they know, have been loved, have received countless encouraging words, and have never been judged.
When I look in the mirror what do I see? I see a mother and a wife who would move mountains for my family! I see someone who has pretended for these last eight years that the gossip and comments don't hurt. I see a strong woman who has realized who her real friends are. I see someone who has the love and support of a husband and two boys who could care less what anyone else thinks about me. I see a believer in God who knows He has a plan for me.
Some days I think I have came to peace with my "career" of working multiple jobs and continually looking for the opportunity to only work one full-time position. Other days I fear I will never have a true "career". The choice I made to pursue a second degree in Psychology and now work towards a Master's in Counseling is my next opportunity at the "career". Maybe I will still have the opportunity for a child to grow up and say I made a difference in their life through listening and counseling them in the darkest days of their life.
One of my favorite quotes has always been..."If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it is yours. If it does not, it was never meant to be." I took a huge step in letting go of teaching by selling all of my classroom supplies and memories this last year. It was through this quote that I came to realize I may have been bullied out of my dream, but no one will ever take away the love and dedication to those students within the four walls of a fourth grade classroom eight years ago.
I'm not sure what the future holds, but I'm not willing to listen to the negativity and hurtful comments. I'm ready and worthy of a counseling career and true happiness at my second passion.
My Reasons for NOT Giving Up!!!
I've been what one would consider an "adult" for almost eighteen years now. I can honestly say that there are many great moments and advantages to being an adult, but more often I find myself wishing I would have listened to my mom and not wished my childhood away. The responsibilities that come with being an adult outweigh the fun and benefits most days. For me, the toughest challenge lies in caring for my family.
All parents want the best for their children, wish to provide for them financially, wish to give them more than they had as a child, and wish to get past the point of living paycheck to paycheck. I am no different in my desires for my own children and my own family. I find myself often thinking about the many obstacles that seem to stand in the way of allowing me to feel as though I have reached this point in my life. I also find myself fearing that I may never reach the level I wish to be for my family and for myself.
From the time I was old enough to remember, I would make my much older brother play school with me. He was the greatest of older brothers! He never complained that this was an everyday occurrence, or that the pretend school day may last for hours. It was from these first playtime moments that I dreamt of being a teacher. I dreamt of making a difference in a child's life and wishing at least one child would grow up and say that Mrs. Terrell was their favorite teacher the way I say Mrs. Moore was my favorite teacher. I dreamt of decorating my classroom, laughter filling the playground, and many hugs. I dreamt of evenings with my own children after school and summers full of days off from scheduled work hours.
My road to making my dream come true was a rather difficult and untraditional one. I had taken some college classes my last year in high school, but then chose to marry my high school sweetheart within a week of graduating. Due to the health of my mother we decided to quickly start a family. Within three months of being married I was pregnant. I ended up choosing to withdraw from school due to having such a difficult pregnancy and being on bed rest. It wasn't until I had my second son and my mother passed away five years after getting married that I decided it was time to go back to college. I babysat during the day and cared for my own children, then swapped places with my husband and parent duties and headed to night classes at the local community college. I was determined to only take two years to finish my degree and maintain all "A's" while doing it. The joy I felt walking across that stage and hearing my little boys yelling for me compared to no other feeling in my life!
I quickly applied to a four year university to complete my other two years of school towards a Bachelor's degree in Elementary Education with a great desire to pursue my passion for teaching. I was able to get a Paraprofessional position within the local school district and continue taking courses an hour and a half a way to get my degree. I drove four days a week and gave up many hours with my children, knowing it was all for a career and a better future for my family in the end. In May 2005 I walked across the stage and received my Bachelor's degree and a huge sense of accomplishment and pride.
I accepted my first elementary teacher classroom position the following summer and began teaching the most amazing group of 4th graders. Unless you really know me or took the time to ask me, I doubt you know the trials of that year. I spent seven days a week in my classroom, in the hopes that I would be the best teacher I could ever hope to be. Instead, I found out about the politics and small town bullying that too often occur. My dreams of a life long career in the one area I was passionate about were taken away from me due to bullying and politics, without a second thought as to how this would impact my family or me.
I am here today eight years later. I have sacrificed, worked two and three jobs at a time, went back to school for a second degree and am currently working on a Master's, have listened to the gossip, have been labeled by others, and have received many harsh comments by so-called "friends". By my close friends I have been praised for never giving up, have been told I am one of the strongest people they know, have been loved, have received countless encouraging words, and have never been judged.
When I look in the mirror what do I see? I see a mother and a wife who would move mountains for my family! I see someone who has pretended for these last eight years that the gossip and comments don't hurt. I see a strong woman who has realized who her real friends are. I see someone who has the love and support of a husband and two boys who could care less what anyone else thinks about me. I see a believer in God who knows He has a plan for me.
Some days I think I have came to peace with my "career" of working multiple jobs and continually looking for the opportunity to only work one full-time position. Other days I fear I will never have a true "career". The choice I made to pursue a second degree in Psychology and now work towards a Master's in Counseling is my next opportunity at the "career". Maybe I will still have the opportunity for a child to grow up and say I made a difference in their life through listening and counseling them in the darkest days of their life.
One of my favorite quotes has always been..."If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it is yours. If it does not, it was never meant to be." I took a huge step in letting go of teaching by selling all of my classroom supplies and memories this last year. It was through this quote that I came to realize I may have been bullied out of my dream, but no one will ever take away the love and dedication to those students within the four walls of a fourth grade classroom eight years ago.
I'm not sure what the future holds, but I'm not willing to listen to the negativity and hurtful comments. I'm ready and worthy of a counseling career and true happiness at my second passion.
My Reasons for NOT Giving Up!!!
Monday, April 7, 2014
More Than a Material Possession
Admitting you a have a problem is the first step in recovery. I finally admitted in 2014 that I have a problem holding onto material possessions that have memories attached to them. This confession came as no surprise to my husband or my children. They have been a part of my life long enough to know that I have this problem. What neither they nor I was prepared for was the fact that I was indeed ready to conquer this problem one possession at a time.
What brought about this sudden change? Thanks to my new found desire to blog, I read of a great compromise to this problem. If we hold onto every possession that holds a memory, these possessions will overtake our lives and we will find ourselves on an episode of Hoarders! I DO NOT want to find myself on Hoarders! I should stress for those who have never been in my home, my problem is not even close to an issue compared to some of the episodes I have watched from that show. My home is very neat and clean. I just have boxes of keepsakes and use available storage for these important memory filled possessions. The solution I found within a blog was to take a photo of each possession, write the memory associated with the picture, and compile a scrapbook. I already love to scrapbook, so adding a few more scrapbooks versus lots more possessions seemed like an amazing compromise.
I decided to start out small and used our local swap shop on Facebook to get rid of a few items. These were baby steps, but I was very proud of myself. The moment my husband realized I was serious about this goal occurred the day he received the Facebook notification that I had listed a rather large item for sale on swap shop. This item was a green microfiber couch. To many this was nothing more than a couch that was in good shape and ready for many more hours of relaxing while eating popcorn and watching a movie. To me this item was the final purchase my father made for me.
This purchase was not a spur of the moment decision. In fact I did not really even need a couch when my Dad bought it for me. My Dad was "old school". He would come to our home to visit and find it very odd that we used our front room as a formal area with a rocking chair as the only real sitting area. In order to reach the living room, you would have to walk through my kitchen and down a small flight of stairs. Here you would find our couch, television, and more relaxing area. Each time Dad would visit he would tell me that no home should have a front room without a couch, especially when old people did not like stairs. Those were his words, not mine.
One random morning I received a phone call from my Dad asking if I would be home and available to spend some time with him. It worked out that I had the day off, so when he arrived we headed to an unknown destination. When we pulled up to the local furniture store I asked why we were there. My Dad informed me that he was going to purchase his own seating for when he came to visit. Within a few short minutes, a couch was chosen that we both agreed upon and a delivery time was scheduled. From that day forward, each time my Dad entered my home he had a place to call his own.
I never realized until losing my Dad in July 2012 just how much that couch would mean to me or how much I would miss him coming in my front door and sitting down to enjoy a birthday party, Easter egg hunt, or Christmas dinner with my family. The couch left its' spot in my living room and moved to a storage area when it no longer fit the decor of the room. However, I could not bring myself to part with the memories that couch held by selling it.
In February 2014 I realized I was ready to take a picture, compile my memories, and let go of this possession. Within minutes of listing this green couch on swap shop, a variety of people were interested. The first young girl who responded sent me a message that she would buy it that day if we could possibly deliver it to her. I agreed and of course volunteered my husband to help deliver it that evening. We reached the home, accepted payment, and I shed a few tears as I left.
Within a few hours the girl who purchased the couch called me to inform me she had found what appeared to be a lawn mower key on an Iowa key ring in the couch. She stated she wanted to make sure I was able to come pick it up, and felt it may be important to me. That key belonged to my Dad. The fact that someone who did not know me at all would take the time to call me over something that most people would simply throw away made me feel so blessed.
The next evening my husband and I stopped by to pick up the key. I walked to the porch and knocked on the door. As the door opened and I was invited in, I saw a young boy wrapped up in a blanket with his toy asleep on the couch. The young girl handed me the key as she and her husband explained to me how thankful they were to find a couch they could afford. I shared with them my story behind the couch, the difficulty I had in making the decision to sell it, and how happy I was to see a young family much like mine had been at the time of the original purchase enjoying it.
As I reached the truck tears were rolling down my cheeks. My Dad was always the kind of person to help others. When I was a teacher I told him about a little girl in my class who did not have money for gloves and a hat. He drove down to my house the next day with multiple pairs of gloves and hats for both boys and girls. I know that at that moment he was looking down at me and was proud of me. He would be so happy knowing that something that had brought him joy each time he relaxed on while playing with his grandchildren would now bring joy to another set of little boys watching movies or napping in the comfort of a green microfiber couch.
To some it is simply a material possession. To me it will be a memory I will hold deep in my heart forever.
What brought about this sudden change? Thanks to my new found desire to blog, I read of a great compromise to this problem. If we hold onto every possession that holds a memory, these possessions will overtake our lives and we will find ourselves on an episode of Hoarders! I DO NOT want to find myself on Hoarders! I should stress for those who have never been in my home, my problem is not even close to an issue compared to some of the episodes I have watched from that show. My home is very neat and clean. I just have boxes of keepsakes and use available storage for these important memory filled possessions. The solution I found within a blog was to take a photo of each possession, write the memory associated with the picture, and compile a scrapbook. I already love to scrapbook, so adding a few more scrapbooks versus lots more possessions seemed like an amazing compromise.
I decided to start out small and used our local swap shop on Facebook to get rid of a few items. These were baby steps, but I was very proud of myself. The moment my husband realized I was serious about this goal occurred the day he received the Facebook notification that I had listed a rather large item for sale on swap shop. This item was a green microfiber couch. To many this was nothing more than a couch that was in good shape and ready for many more hours of relaxing while eating popcorn and watching a movie. To me this item was the final purchase my father made for me.
This purchase was not a spur of the moment decision. In fact I did not really even need a couch when my Dad bought it for me. My Dad was "old school". He would come to our home to visit and find it very odd that we used our front room as a formal area with a rocking chair as the only real sitting area. In order to reach the living room, you would have to walk through my kitchen and down a small flight of stairs. Here you would find our couch, television, and more relaxing area. Each time Dad would visit he would tell me that no home should have a front room without a couch, especially when old people did not like stairs. Those were his words, not mine.
One random morning I received a phone call from my Dad asking if I would be home and available to spend some time with him. It worked out that I had the day off, so when he arrived we headed to an unknown destination. When we pulled up to the local furniture store I asked why we were there. My Dad informed me that he was going to purchase his own seating for when he came to visit. Within a few short minutes, a couch was chosen that we both agreed upon and a delivery time was scheduled. From that day forward, each time my Dad entered my home he had a place to call his own.
I never realized until losing my Dad in July 2012 just how much that couch would mean to me or how much I would miss him coming in my front door and sitting down to enjoy a birthday party, Easter egg hunt, or Christmas dinner with my family. The couch left its' spot in my living room and moved to a storage area when it no longer fit the decor of the room. However, I could not bring myself to part with the memories that couch held by selling it.
In February 2014 I realized I was ready to take a picture, compile my memories, and let go of this possession. Within minutes of listing this green couch on swap shop, a variety of people were interested. The first young girl who responded sent me a message that she would buy it that day if we could possibly deliver it to her. I agreed and of course volunteered my husband to help deliver it that evening. We reached the home, accepted payment, and I shed a few tears as I left.
Within a few hours the girl who purchased the couch called me to inform me she had found what appeared to be a lawn mower key on an Iowa key ring in the couch. She stated she wanted to make sure I was able to come pick it up, and felt it may be important to me. That key belonged to my Dad. The fact that someone who did not know me at all would take the time to call me over something that most people would simply throw away made me feel so blessed.
The next evening my husband and I stopped by to pick up the key. I walked to the porch and knocked on the door. As the door opened and I was invited in, I saw a young boy wrapped up in a blanket with his toy asleep on the couch. The young girl handed me the key as she and her husband explained to me how thankful they were to find a couch they could afford. I shared with them my story behind the couch, the difficulty I had in making the decision to sell it, and how happy I was to see a young family much like mine had been at the time of the original purchase enjoying it.
As I reached the truck tears were rolling down my cheeks. My Dad was always the kind of person to help others. When I was a teacher I told him about a little girl in my class who did not have money for gloves and a hat. He drove down to my house the next day with multiple pairs of gloves and hats for both boys and girls. I know that at that moment he was looking down at me and was proud of me. He would be so happy knowing that something that had brought him joy each time he relaxed on while playing with his grandchildren would now bring joy to another set of little boys watching movies or napping in the comfort of a green microfiber couch.
To some it is simply a material possession. To me it will be a memory I will hold deep in my heart forever.
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
What is a Friend?
Every time I visit my sister's house I make a point to use her master bathroom instead of the main bathroom, which is the first choice of most guests. The funny thing is that my sister, her husband, and all three of her children know I prefer this bathroom. I don't choose to go in here because of the wall color, the square footage, or the running magazines. This master bathroom contains one far more important item that draws me to it.
On the wall there is a small frame with a quote. This article was given to my sister from her husband and words within this frame sum up the love the two share in one simple sentence.
"If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live a day without you." - A. A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh
When I think of Winnie-the-Pooh I think of the many lessons my children learned about friendship and love from the honey loving bear. This bear managed to teach some of the important lessons everyone should know about finding a true friend and being a true friend. Some of these simple lessons come to mind as I stop and think about some of my closest friends and just how special the friendship we share means to me.
In less than thirty-seven hours my best friend is heading out for a journey that I simply cannot understand. Although I was raised in a Christian home and attended church every week, I never really learned about the life of a family serving God in other areas. It wasn't until I agreed to care for a little girl while her parents went to work and school each day that I began to learn about the life of a servant from a family who lived this life. I could never imagine that that signed daycare agreement was the start of an amazing Winnie-the-Pooh friendship.
Choosing to have a best friend who lives the life of true service with her husband and children is not like have a best friend who works at a local bank. Our friendship takes long distance relationships to a whole new level. I have learned that this distance just makes the times we do have together more important. I have also come to realize that whether this distance is a few months or even a few years, as this one is, we manage to pick up right where we left off.
The laughter, tears, milestones, love, loss, and memories we have shared over these last eight years have been unforgettable. Although I am no more prepared for her to leave this time than I was the first time, I am proud of her for her choices. I am thankful God gave her a willing heart to serve Him and share His gospel.
My dear friend Chelsie,
I pray for your safety and health. I pray for your family on this journey with you. I pray for your strength. I pray for your ability to laugh. I pray for your memories of us laughing to remain fresh on tough days over the next two years. I pray for opportunities to talk with you in some form until I can hug you again.
I love you my friend!
"We'll be friends forever, won't we, Pooh?' asked Piglet. Even longer,' Pooh answered" - A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh
On the wall there is a small frame with a quote. This article was given to my sister from her husband and words within this frame sum up the love the two share in one simple sentence.
"If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live a day without you." - A. A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh
When I think of Winnie-the-Pooh I think of the many lessons my children learned about friendship and love from the honey loving bear. This bear managed to teach some of the important lessons everyone should know about finding a true friend and being a true friend. Some of these simple lessons come to mind as I stop and think about some of my closest friends and just how special the friendship we share means to me.
In less than thirty-seven hours my best friend is heading out for a journey that I simply cannot understand. Although I was raised in a Christian home and attended church every week, I never really learned about the life of a family serving God in other areas. It wasn't until I agreed to care for a little girl while her parents went to work and school each day that I began to learn about the life of a servant from a family who lived this life. I could never imagine that that signed daycare agreement was the start of an amazing Winnie-the-Pooh friendship.
Choosing to have a best friend who lives the life of true service with her husband and children is not like have a best friend who works at a local bank. Our friendship takes long distance relationships to a whole new level. I have learned that this distance just makes the times we do have together more important. I have also come to realize that whether this distance is a few months or even a few years, as this one is, we manage to pick up right where we left off.
The laughter, tears, milestones, love, loss, and memories we have shared over these last eight years have been unforgettable. Although I am no more prepared for her to leave this time than I was the first time, I am proud of her for her choices. I am thankful God gave her a willing heart to serve Him and share His gospel.
My dear friend Chelsie,
I pray for your safety and health. I pray for your family on this journey with you. I pray for your strength. I pray for your ability to laugh. I pray for your memories of us laughing to remain fresh on tough days over the next two years. I pray for opportunities to talk with you in some form until I can hug you again.
I love you my friend!
"We'll be friends forever, won't we, Pooh?' asked Piglet. Even longer,' Pooh answered" - A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Seeing a Father's Love Through My Camera Lens
If you have attended a Kirksville Tigers Football game or any event my boys have been a part of, you have seen me. I am that crazy lady almost on the actual football field no matter how cold with that huge camera lens. Many people have no clue of my name or even which child is mine, but if someone explains me as the lady with the camera...usually everyone knows me.
One advantage I have to being that "camera lady" is seeing the action, love, laughter, and special moments in ways that others are unable to see from the naked eye view. I could spend hours sifting through photos on my camera, computer, or those that I have printed. There is never a time that a smile doesn't appear on my face from reliving the moments that I captured that special shot.
Of all the photos I have taken over the years, my favorites have been those watching a father's love grow as his children grow. This journey began sixteen years ago with the birth of his first son and continues today. Although he was a young father of only twenty-two when that little boy entered the world, he worked full-time and was still willing to pace countless hours attempting to quiet that crying baby. His love for that little boy never faltered through the screaming, teething, terrible two's and three's, finger painting on the walls, running into the garage door with the riding lawn mower, or the many other challenges over the years. This love was only increased when a second son was added to the dynamics a short two and a half years later.
I have had the privilege to have a front row seat in watching the love of a father and his sons change and mature as both the father and sons have also changed and matured. The added bonus is that I am not only the photographer, but the wife and mother.
Studies show that women tend to marry someone with similar characteristics to their fathers. If that is a true fact, then my husband had some huge shoes to fill. However, as I have watched my husband grow as a husband and a father I know that he is filling those shoes remarkably well. I can only hope that I have many more opportunities to view his love and growth through my camera lens before those boys venture away from home to start a similar story of love.
David playing with Colin as a little boy.
One of my favorite pictures of David congratulating Domenic after a good football game.
My boys making memories with their Dad!
David enjoying the ocean and the sand with his boys.
One advantage I have to being that "camera lady" is seeing the action, love, laughter, and special moments in ways that others are unable to see from the naked eye view. I could spend hours sifting through photos on my camera, computer, or those that I have printed. There is never a time that a smile doesn't appear on my face from reliving the moments that I captured that special shot.
Of all the photos I have taken over the years, my favorites have been those watching a father's love grow as his children grow. This journey began sixteen years ago with the birth of his first son and continues today. Although he was a young father of only twenty-two when that little boy entered the world, he worked full-time and was still willing to pace countless hours attempting to quiet that crying baby. His love for that little boy never faltered through the screaming, teething, terrible two's and three's, finger painting on the walls, running into the garage door with the riding lawn mower, or the many other challenges over the years. This love was only increased when a second son was added to the dynamics a short two and a half years later.
I have had the privilege to have a front row seat in watching the love of a father and his sons change and mature as both the father and sons have also changed and matured. The added bonus is that I am not only the photographer, but the wife and mother.
Studies show that women tend to marry someone with similar characteristics to their fathers. If that is a true fact, then my husband had some huge shoes to fill. However, as I have watched my husband grow as a husband and a father I know that he is filling those shoes remarkably well. I can only hope that I have many more opportunities to view his love and growth through my camera lens before those boys venture away from home to start a similar story of love.
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Some days it seems like a Lifetime, but other days it was yesterday...
January 9, 2001- One of those days in my life that no matter how much I would like to pretend it didn't happen, the truth is it did. The truth is that on that day thirteen years ago my life changed in a way that I was not prepared for, a way that would forever make me a different person...a girl without her mother.
I am just one of six that felt that same sense of loneliness and pure loss that day thirteen years ago. Each of us were attempting to handle this loss in our own way, while at the same time trying our best to be strong for our own children and mostly for the man who just lost his wife of forty-five years, our Dad. This day had come after a seven year battle with cancer, a variety of surgeries, chemo treatments, radiation treatments, partial paralysis, Hospice services, and day to day trials and side effects of the cancer.
Throughout this journey good things happened too. We were a family starting forty-five years ago, but the "C" word made us a family in a whole new sense. This whole new sense of family evolved as we stood in the chapel holding hands and praying for God not to take our Mother away when she was first diagnosed with cancer, each time we all took turns spending the day caring for Mom in order for Dad to work, the holidays we spent together making memories and watching Mom smile, cherishing each moment Mom was able to spend with the grandchildren, and the way we held hands around Mom's hospital bed and sang hymns as she entered into Heaven and left behind the sickness and pain.
January 9, 2014 - Thirteen years have passed since I lost the one woman I called Mom. What have I learned from the loss of my Mom after having thirteen years to think about it? What do I want others to know about my Mom? What do I want this day to be about?
I truly understand how the words "I'm sorry" do not help ease the pain of losing a parent, but those who say it are making a valiant effort to help in some small way. I have learned that people will tell you time heals all pain or that things will get better with time. These statements are not accurate. After a loss this significant, I have learned to live my life without my Mom. The pain is not healed and things have not gotten better over time. I have grown and adapted better over time to my new life, a life without a Mom. In addition, these thirteen years have helped me realize that I was so very lucky to have twenty-one years with my Mom, the opportunity to share the birth of both of my children with her, a childhood with a mother who always put her children first, and a guardian angel watching over me each day.
I feel so very blessed to have had a mother that was loving, hard working, a Christian, dedicated to her family, a true fighter, a beautiful wife and mother, a good listener, and the one that God chose for me. These are the qualities I want to remember, others to remember, and most of all my children to know about her. Each January I dread this day. I know that it will be hard and that I will send text messages to my siblings, cry at some point, want to curl up in my bed and forget it all happened, and pray. Although I do the majority of those things each year, I also make a point to talk to my children on this day. I tell my boys some of the amazing memories I have of their grandma, the fact that she loved both of them so much, and we make the annual meal of Mom's meatloaf, homemade macaroni and cheese, corn, and mashed potatoes.
Thirteen years later and I am surviving without my Mom. I am not taking the moments I have with my children for granted. I have come to realize that God is here for me and will help me through anything. I have realized that I am strong and part of that is thanks to the strength I gained from my Mom.
I miss and love you everyday Mom and will never forget you or let others forget you.
Virginia Maxine Sedgwick Oden
I am just one of six that felt that same sense of loneliness and pure loss that day thirteen years ago. Each of us were attempting to handle this loss in our own way, while at the same time trying our best to be strong for our own children and mostly for the man who just lost his wife of forty-five years, our Dad. This day had come after a seven year battle with cancer, a variety of surgeries, chemo treatments, radiation treatments, partial paralysis, Hospice services, and day to day trials and side effects of the cancer.
Throughout this journey good things happened too. We were a family starting forty-five years ago, but the "C" word made us a family in a whole new sense. This whole new sense of family evolved as we stood in the chapel holding hands and praying for God not to take our Mother away when she was first diagnosed with cancer, each time we all took turns spending the day caring for Mom in order for Dad to work, the holidays we spent together making memories and watching Mom smile, cherishing each moment Mom was able to spend with the grandchildren, and the way we held hands around Mom's hospital bed and sang hymns as she entered into Heaven and left behind the sickness and pain.
January 9, 2014 - Thirteen years have passed since I lost the one woman I called Mom. What have I learned from the loss of my Mom after having thirteen years to think about it? What do I want others to know about my Mom? What do I want this day to be about?
I truly understand how the words "I'm sorry" do not help ease the pain of losing a parent, but those who say it are making a valiant effort to help in some small way. I have learned that people will tell you time heals all pain or that things will get better with time. These statements are not accurate. After a loss this significant, I have learned to live my life without my Mom. The pain is not healed and things have not gotten better over time. I have grown and adapted better over time to my new life, a life without a Mom. In addition, these thirteen years have helped me realize that I was so very lucky to have twenty-one years with my Mom, the opportunity to share the birth of both of my children with her, a childhood with a mother who always put her children first, and a guardian angel watching over me each day.
I feel so very blessed to have had a mother that was loving, hard working, a Christian, dedicated to her family, a true fighter, a beautiful wife and mother, a good listener, and the one that God chose for me. These are the qualities I want to remember, others to remember, and most of all my children to know about her. Each January I dread this day. I know that it will be hard and that I will send text messages to my siblings, cry at some point, want to curl up in my bed and forget it all happened, and pray. Although I do the majority of those things each year, I also make a point to talk to my children on this day. I tell my boys some of the amazing memories I have of their grandma, the fact that she loved both of them so much, and we make the annual meal of Mom's meatloaf, homemade macaroni and cheese, corn, and mashed potatoes.
Thirteen years later and I am surviving without my Mom. I am not taking the moments I have with my children for granted. I have come to realize that God is here for me and will help me through anything. I have realized that I am strong and part of that is thanks to the strength I gained from my Mom.
I miss and love you everyday Mom and will never forget you or let others forget you.
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