Stand up! But keep listening, too

By nature, I avoid anything resembling a confrontation.  When I was young, I was so painfully shy I avoided anything that might even lead to a confrontation or difficult conversation.  Early in my marriage, I'd beg Darrell to call the phone company or any other service provider if something was wrong that we needed to resolve.

I credit Darrell with teaching me to argue, and without meaning to, teaching me to stand up for what I believe in.  In a strange turn of events, I am now the one who is better at demanding good service from companies we do business with.  I am not mean, but firm.  I remember a co-worker hearing me deal with an issue from the office once, and she was shocked that I could be like that, because she'd never heard the firm, insistent Jennifer.

When I was first testing my wings with this new and improved Jennifer who stands up for what is right for herself and for others, way back at my first professional job, a situation arose.  Through overhearing office gossip, I found out that coworkers in another department with the same job function and title were getting paid quite a bit more than those of us in my department.  Just a few years before, I'm quite sure I would have just kept my mouth shut, and stewed in my own juices about it.  Instead, I brought it to the attention of the Vice President of my department.  I wasn't really even demanding about it, and I don't think I would have said anything even then if it hadn't affected several other people besides myself.  Within a few weeks, five of us got significant raises to bring salaries in line with the other group.  To my knowledge, I was the only one who brought up this disparity in pay, even though others realized it.  Despite my fear, I was never treated poorly after.  In fact, I think I earned respect by standing up for myself and my coworkers.  At least, I like to think so.

I don't have regrets about my past.  My experiences and decisions brought me to the life I have now, the life I love.  When I think back to the 18-year-old girl just graduating high school with so many ambitious dreams, I know that I've accomplished them.  I quite honestly have everything I ever wanted.  From 40 on, it's just icing on the cake, and it's a pretty tasty cake.  Sure, I have bad days.  Sure, I'd like to move all my family and friends to my neighborhood.  Sure, I know I could lose it all, or at least lose someone significant in my life, at any time.  But overall, life is sweet.

But, if there is one thing I'd go back and change about myself, it would be that I would have always stood up for what is right.  I would go back and have the tough conversations.  I'd go back and try to stop the bullies from picking on kids in my grade school.  I'd go back and talk to the school administration about things that weren't handled well.  I'd make my voice heard, because I would know there were others just like me that were afraid to speak up, so I would speak up for them.

I've had a few weeks of difficult conversations.  A few weeks of standing up for things that I believe are right for both myself and my daughter.  It hasn't been easy.  I'm admittedly more hurt when my children aren't treated fairly than when I'm not.  I'm even a little worn out from it.  Right now, it even seems like little or nothing will be done, for us at least, resulting from these tough conversations.  But I have learned that it is still important to speak up.  Things may not change today based on matters I raise, but if I speak up now, policies might change for those who come after.  I have several examples from past experience of things getting better for others that followed after me, even if I didn't get to experience the benefit personally.  I speak up so that even if it doesn't help my daughter, it might help your younger daughter five years from now.  I speak up because I used to be afraid.  I speak up for the people that can't. And, I hope I learn to do it better, to speak up for other important issues that I just stay out of now while I'm so busy supporting and raising my family.

So, I'll leave you with one final thought.  Learn to speak up for what you believe in, but make sure you don't learn it so well that you forget how to listen.  That's the lesson I am trying to make sure I learn myself.

What a Difference a Year Makes...

One year ago today, I was completely overwhelmed.  Darrell had been gone already for almost two months, though he was on his way home for the weekend.  Will had just had surgery and been in the hospital for three days, and had a setback just that day.  The movers were coming to help us get out of our home of seven years the very next morning.  The kids and I were moving into a temporary place that I was quickly realizing wasn't as nice as I'd hoped.  I was heading to Indy for a quick trip for my brand new job the next week, and then starting work full time from our temporary place the week after that.

I was a mess, but I had no choice but to trust it would all work out.  And it did.

It was a tough several months, but a year later, things feel much more solid and stable.  Instead of moving away from our beloved home and friends, we're on the way to making new friends. We like our new house perhaps even better than the old house. Both Darrell and I have stable, though of course not perfect and sometimes trying, jobs.  Both kids have made friends here and seem to like their schools and activities.  We found a church home quickly.  We lost a beloved pet (Chester), but after grieving for a while, we have sweet Simba.  It is starting to feel like we belong.  And that's such a good feeling.

I know others experience even more trying circumstances than we have over the past year or so.  But I have to believe that after the trying times, it gets better.  After the storm, sometimes there is a rainbow.  After the pain, there is peace.  Sometimes you have to just get through it, and there is beauty on the other side.  And usually there is even beauty along the difficult journey, if you just look hard enough.  I hope you see some of that beauty today.

The World Keeps Getting Smaller

As a young girl, I got to go to the Magic Kingdom several times.  Not because my family had all that much money, but because my Granny lived and worked in Kissimmee, Florida (just outside Orlando).  We would drive the 16 hours from our home in West Virginia many summers during miner's vacation (yep, for part of my life, I was indeed a coal miner's daughter).  As wonderful as the Magic Kingdom was, I don't even think it was my favorite Florida theme park.  I remember Sea World, too, but my absolute favorite was Circus World.  Does any other 70's kid remember that awesome amusement park?  I don't remember a lot, but I remember being so excited to go and so happy there!

I could ride any ride at any of the amusement parks and not get sick.  I still have an iron stomach compared to most my age, but admit that the teacups would now do me in (I still love roller coasters though - especially smooth, fast ones!).

The Magic Kingdom opened the year I was born.  And I have a favorite memory of something my sister and I would get each year we went - the coolest balloon with a colored Mickey Mouse shaped balloon inside, and a clear/transparent white regular balloon on the outside.  I remember admiring those balloons, watching some of them float away from other children while I held mine tight (including my little sister's a time or two, I think).  They looked something like this, although I don't remember the ones of my childhood being so transparent on the outside balloon or having the inner one with the print/design:

Would you like to guess what my favorite Disney ride really was though?  It's a Small World After All, of course!   Years later, riding it first in adulthood with my husband and friends, and then again at later times at least once with each of my children when they were young, there was something so comforting about that tune and the ride.  Even if the tune does get stuck in your head for days and days... and days after the ride is over.

My daughter is at Disney World for the first time without us this week.  The first time we took her, she was four years old.  Wasn't that just yesterday?  She is suddenly so grown up, so independent.  And she's always been my more independent kid anyway.  I miss the four-year-old who believed, just a little, that the Disney princesses just might be real.  I miss the four-year-old, so sure she wouldn't like shows at Disney at all compared to the rides, and the look of wonder after seeing her first Disney show (The Lion King).  She didn't complain about going to a single Disney show after that.  I miss the four-year-old and her five-year-old cousin pulling us all through the parks, so eager to get to the next adventure.  I turned around twice, and she grew up on me, but you may be tired of hearing me talk about that already.

Perhaps just amazing to me as my little girl being grown, is how small my world seems to get year after year.  I know several people at Disney this week, the same time as my daughter.  Two friends were kind enough to even send videos of my girl in her parade.  One friend is one I still miss sometimes so much that it hurts, my next door neighbor in Lexington that I still wish I could have moved right along with us.

And, many years after my Granny has moved, and then passed away, we have family nearby in Florida again.  Darrell's parents live in Florida each winter, and his aunt and her family just moved to the area last year.  It is doubtful any family will see my girl while she's there, but at least I know they are nearby if she really needed them. 

It is just surprising how often I know somewhere where one of us is going, how small the world has grown.  Even moving here, a city I hadn't even visited in many years, we had people already we knew.  And while I haven't seen them as much as I'd like, I know I have friends with history already here, and maybe already just about anywhere I'd go (at least in the US).  The more we've moved, the more we travel, the more we reach out and connect with others, the smaller our world becomes.  And I like it that way.  I like it very much.

Half of 50

When I was 25, I proudly told family and friends that I was “half of 50”.  Looking back, I don’t know if this was supposed to make me seem more mature, or if I was just so young that 50 still seemed a lifetime away.

Tomorrow, I’ll be 86% of 50.  That doesn’t have quite the same ring, somehow.

I finally understand what my parents used to say about us kids growing up so quickly. I finally understand what they meant about not really feeling old.  I finally understand why my mom seemed so tired so often.

I have no regrets, because the life I chose led me to the life I have today, one that is rich and full, and includes a loving loyal husband, children who by turns challenge and inspire me, family and friends who fill my life and make it worthwhile, and even a job that motivates me to do it well and in its own small way contributes to helping others.

The 25-year-old me that I remember knew so very little, but already she was learning a great deal.  She already had a strong marriage.  She knew by then that her parents actually knew what they’d been talking about during her teen years, and she was starting to learn that she was very happy they’d erred on the side of overprotection.

My goals now are a bit different than they were then.  I want to hold onto time with my children, but I keep feeling it slip away.  You don’t know what it is to be a mother until you are one, no matter how many parenting books you might read (and this is coming from someone who read LOTS of them).  In the beginning, sometimes just getting through the day and finding a few hours of uninterrupted sleep is the best you can hope for.  Later on, a night out with your friends refuels you.  But before you know it, you are wondering how many more times your teenage daughter will be seen with you at the movie theatre.  How long before she’ll only go with her friends, or maybe just with a boyfriend?  You feel your intelligence in her eyes falling precipitously.  

On the occasions that your children do echo back some of your better words of wisdom (i.e., “I don’t know why anyone would even try smoking!”), you hope and pray that means you’ve gotten at least some of this parenting gig right.  And while you may be able to take some credit still for the younger child’s good behavior, you realize with each passing year that the older one is more and more her own person (and she was the independent one already).

At least in my life:

• My early 20s were about figuring out who I was, especially in relation to my husband and career
• My late 20s/early 30s were about learning what it was to be a mom, and re-figuring out what it meant for me to be a Christian
• My late 30s were about “getting my grove back”, finding the me that was definitely a mom, but also still my own person
• My early 40s have been about learning how to let go of things that I thought were finally solid (via a big move to another state), all while holding tight to the most important people and things

So, what do I hope for the next stage?  My goal is to learn how to better reach out, to connect to the community around me, to find more meaningful ways to give back (whether that be donating my money, my time, etc.), and to gracefully let go as my kids leave the nest and learn to live on their own (all with the assurance I’m still there for them when needed).

And if you see me crying at an upcoming college visit or at my daughter’s high school graduation in a few years, don’t judge!  It may take a few tears to learn how to let go gracefully…

Things I'd Tell My Younger Self Series: Age 23

For an introduction to this series, take a look here.


Dear 23-year-old Jennifer,

About now, you are wondering how things could possibly be going so right and so wrong at the same time.  You've just been offered a job at a market research company, using your degree finally after three temporary jobs.  You are going to start in a career that is something you sort of thought about, but had no idea how to even get into.  It sounds so perfect!

Only, you've also just been told your young husband has cancer.


And you are both a day's drive away from any family, and just starting to make friends in metro Detroit.  Darrell is sick.  Really, he hasn't been feeling well for months and months, but now you know why.  All of his energy is going to be used up fighting this, and you are wondering how you can get him through it and be a good employee at the same time.

In the back of your mind, you are wondering what you will do if he dies.  And 23-year-olds shouldn't have to think about that, but many do.  The chances are in your favor that he will live.  And I can tell you that he does, and has only minor lingering effects from the chemo and radiation that saves his life.

But you don't know that now.  And I know you have another big worry.  What if you can't have kids?  It will be another three long years before you even know whether you can.  The odds don't look good right now.  Even the doctor's last-minute switch of chemo drugs doesn't leave you feeling very optimistic.  But you are encouraged that your young husband is willing to go to a sperm bank, even though he claims that he'd be happy adopting a child pictured on the fast food restaurant place mats.

Will you love this man forever if you can't have kids?  I like to think that you would have, but I can't resist telling you that you won't have to find out. 

I won't try to tell you that the next year will be easy, nor the following few years of wondering.  First, you both need your strength to focus on beating cancer.  Family and friends will help, in ways you can't even imagine now.  You will learn through this that your love is strong.  You will look back and wonder if this early challenge was a sort of cement that kept you together through lesser challenges later.

I mean, if you can get through a life-threatening disease, surely you can stick by his side when he yells and gets angry when he shouldn't.  Surely you can learn how to care for a little baby together.  What, after all, is tougher than watching your husband lose nearly 50 pounds, lose much of his hair, get sick over and over and over again, cry because he thinks he might die and leave you alone, sweat through the sheets almost every night, get a lung disease that doctors can't even identify, go to work every day and leave him feeling awful, watch him try to go to work when possible so that life is just a little more normal and so his work disability payments don't drop to a lower level...

There will be other tough things that happen in your life, but getting through this will be a big part of what makes you and Darrell believe you can survive anything together.

It takes an average of six months to conceive, or so you read before you start trying.  I'm tempted to let you wonder how long it will take for you and Darrell to conceive your first baby (yes, I said first).  The truth is that I'm not exactly sure anyway, because you weren't even all that serious about the trying yet.  But it was definitely within the first month.  And, ever since, you are happy to be able to laugh and smile when Darrell complains about not getting the six months of "practice" that he was promised.

I can't resist a tiny preview for you (and look how much hair Darrell will have again!):

You get through the tough times one day at a time, with prayer and by just doing what you can. You will continue to be a wife for a long time.  You will be a mom.  You will even be a good employee. I keep telling you that the best is yet to come, and it is!

Love,

42-year-old Jennifer

Things I'd Tell My Younger Self Series: Age 21

Review and catch up on this series beginning here.

What I would tell 21-year-old Jennifer

She looked something like this:

And, as often as possible, you'd find her right beside the guy she's pictured with.

Dear 21-year-old Jennifer,

I may be the only other one who knows how much you are questioning marrying this man.  You have never met a man who infuriated you so much, challenged your way of thinking, confused you, and at times, has just plain been mean to you.  But, already, you see signs that he also is bringing out the best in you.  You have learned to stand up for yourself because of him.  You have deep, intelligent conversations you've never had with another boyfriend.  You want him physically in ways you could always resist with other guys.  His hug alone makes you feel protected and safe.

You've never been a rebel a day in your life, but it feels a little rebellious to be marrying this man, who is still really half boy.  He jokes that he won't be able to legally drink at his own wedding.  He will always be able to tease you about being just a little older.  His friends think you are both crazy to be getting married so young, and you suspect even his family feels you are both too young.  Why can't you just wait until you both graduate college at least?

But, I know why you can't.  It's time.  He's wanted to marry you almost since he met you.  You've wanted to marry him since the summer after freshman year of college when you feared he'd break up with you.  This is the man you want to spend your life with, and yes, even finish growing up with.  You aren't marrying him because you want him to rescue you and make your dreams come true.  You are marrying him because he makes you a better version of yourself, because you are both better together than you are apart.

Don't marry him because you've already had sex with him.  It's true that if done right, that is as close as a man and a woman can be together.  And it's also true that you will be glad he's the only one who's been with you and the only one you've been with.  And don't let anyone scare you about married sex not being good anymore.  Trust me, it only gets better from here.

Don't marry him out of fear that you need to hold onto him in some way.  This man is as loyal as they come.  Not only will he not cheat on you, he won't flirt with other women, he won't even look their way.  He will still believe that you are the most beautiful woman and be amazed that you felt him good enough for you even into your forties, I promise.  You may know better, but you will be glad that his heart makes you so beautiful in his eyes.

Don't marry him because you want kids.  You know already that you will have to talk him into this.  I can tell you that he will be a good daddy to his own children.  He's never going to be the kind of dad who wants a house full of kids, but he will keep to his promise that you can have two.  Your dream of adoption as well may never happen, but maybe you can look into other ways of helping young children without the solid lives that your children will have.

Don't marry him for his health and good looks.  Those are things that fade, and for a while, the health will fade more than you can even understand right now.  And as for good looks, you can always think back to the nerdy clothes he sometimes wears.  He will never be in style and will often need your help just to match clothes for work.  And you won't care.  In fact, that's something you will find endearing about him even as you age. 

Don't marry him for his income potential.  Yes, he's going into a solid career field.  But you will never be rich for US standards (although compared to much of the world, you already are).  You will both earn enough for a comfortable life, even if that means that for the most part, you will both have to work to provide for your family.  Neither of you are cut out for the executive suite, or even for sales.  And that's ok.  Soon enough you will learn that you'd rather be working, too, instead of having him have the weight of completely supporting your family on his shoulders and working long, long hours to adequately do so.

Marry him because he's a Christian, even though you weren't raised in the same denomination.  Marry him because both your parents and his have weathered long marriages already, and remain true to each other.  Marry him because he is your best friend.  Marry him because your goals are similar.  Could there be a better man for you somewhere out in the world?  Perhaps, but you will never be able to imagine that there is.

Marry him.  Say "I do" before God, your family and his, your friends and his.  You won't ever regret it.  I promise.

Love, 42-year-old Jennifer

Things I'd Tell My Younger Self Series: College Freshman Year

For an introduction to this series, check out this post.

What I'd tell my 18/19-year-old self

She looked something like this:

(Don't worry - only a few more years of big hair remain.)

She had a serious boyfriend again.  And, she was going off to college, excited to go live on her own, but scared of meeting new people.

Dear 18-year-old Jennifer,

What a year your freshman year of college will be!  I almost enjoyed it enough to go back and relive it with you.  But, no, I think you can do this on your own.

You've now started a huge step in your goals.  You are starting your college education, and you are determined to succeed.  Even looking back 25 years later, I am proud of you.  And that's saying something, because there are plenty of times I'm not proud of myself.

College is a challenge.  You will quickly find that the classes are way harder than high school, but the good news is that Calculus isn't nearly as tough as those returning college kids made out when they visited your precalculus class last year.  You will not fail.

Your school year is going to be book-ended by two big, life-changing decisions.  Your parents and a few good friends will give you advice, but these are decisions that are yours to make.  Don't feel bad about going the way you feel led.  I can tell you now that you made the right decisions, even if it took a few years or more to know this about each of them.

If school has started, you are already suspecting the first.  No, that really cute and very sweet boyfriend back home is not going to last.  You will feel terrible about it for quite a while, especially since it is you doing the breaking up this time.  But Darrell is the one.  Should you have kissed him and hung out with him so much before you ended it with the boyfriend back home?  No.  But, don't be afraid of your feelings towards him either.

Test him all you want by claiming you're going to tell the boyfriend back home everything and stay with him.  He'll be mean about it at first, but then he will be kind to you again.  And you will finally realize that this Jersey boy who knows exactly what he wants in life, who is the most emotional, talkative, and truthful man you've ever met, and who treats you like you are the most beautiful girl on campus is exactly the one you want.  He will challenge your thinking, be the first guy you've dated you know is more intelligent (in ways) than you, he will be faithful and loyal.  He has no idea how to dress himself and will never fold clothes a day in his life.  He can fix anything mechanical, and he thinks machines are easier to deal with than people.  He won't respect women in general as much as you think he should, but he will respect you.  He thinks you are the best woman he's ever met, and honestly, you know you're good with that.  He will look at you, and it will feel like he's seeing straight to your soul.  And 25 years from now, you will love him so much more than you can even imagine today.

So, say yes to him.  He'll talk crazy talk like getting married before you graduate college.  He won't be sure he wants to be a father.  He's waited for you and you've waited for him.  He's the one you are going to go through this life with, so don't be afraid.  Jump in with both feet and don't look back.  You will never completely understand him, but you will be there for each other in ways that no one else can.

See, wasn't that easy?  Changing your college major will be a cake-walk compared to that.  But it is also important and something you need to do.  Your dad will get over you not becoming an engineer.  You will find a career with a math degree even though you fear you won't.  Besides, you can always tell people you were accepted into the electrical engineering program before Darrell was accepted into mechanical engineering.  You'll get better grades and be happier.  And even to this day, I absolutely can't imagine you working in engineering.

Oh, and the rest of freshman year?  That's easy.  You'll make a few more lifelong friends.  You'll have memories that you'll cherish.  You'll do a few stupid things, too, like almost giving up your best friend (don't!).  But it will all work out.  You'll see.  Enjoy the ride.  College won't be the best time in your life, but it will be better than high school, and you will have more free time than you ever will again.

If there's anything I'd change about the way you're going to live it, I'd say loosen up a little and come out of your shyness.  But it's ok. It works out just fine the way you are!

Love, 42-year-old Jennifer