Practically Laura

Thank-You Notes: To My Friends

Maddy and Emma

In Montreal, we had to start from scratch.  Actually even in Fort Worth, we had to start from scratch.

In other words, we didn’t arrive with an entourage of friends and family in tow.  So I guess it was good that in Ft. Worth, even though we’d moved only forty-five minutes in distance, we were reminded how to make new friends.

This was always tough for me.  I used to be more timid than I am at present, but I knew I needed friends (I love people!), particularly in a new country. 

Then I found Katie.

I was walking Murphy, our dog, around the block in Westmount when a beautiful, little, blond girl spied Murph and wanted to make friends with our shaggy Cairn.  Perfect!  I had my own little, ash brown-haired beauty just a few doors down.  Maddy might make a great friend for Emma.  And all young moms know how that works—Katie, Maddy’s mom, might make a great friend for me.

She did.  I mean, we had our moments, but for the next several years we remained close.

Then we moved to Montreal-Ouest.  No big deal, right?  We were less than 15 minutes away.  But the truth of the matter was that even that small distance put distance in our relationship.  We were busy moms, now with two children each, and it was difficult to fit in the time to visit that had naturally arisen by passing each other on the streets of Westmount.

The times when we pushed our baby joggers up the hill to Roslyn Elementary, Emma and Maddy covered in down and struggling through the snowplow piles.  The times we, by design or by chance, ended up at Prince Albert Park, pushing each other’s children on the swings.  Those times when Katie, with grace, supplied spare snacks to my bottomless pit toddler (Yes, that would be Andrew.) when I’d forgotten once again to pack them.

Still once we moved and even though it wasn't as convenient, we did try to get together every now and then, and so Katie shared one of the weirdest, most frustrating, and funniest experiences I had during our time in Canada.

Let me set up the scene;

    1. We had adopted Katie’s cat Norman about a year or so beforehand when they         discovered Maddy had a cat allergy.

    2. We had moved to Montreal-Ouest, taking Norman with us.

    3. Craig was out of town on a rare business trip (This is always when disaster strikes.)

    4. We were in the long-drawn-out process of renovating our house and had just had new windows installed in the basement.

    5. Katie had invited us to dinner because she knew Craig was away.

    6. I was looking forward to this dinner with much relief and anticipation.

Then I realized Norman had crawled into the ceiling of our basement and been sealed in when the windows were installed.

It’s no understatement when I write that I was desperate to get him out—even to the point that I was cutting random holes in our new sheetrock; and placing stinky, canned food in the openings to lure him.

I was frantic, but it didn’t matter.   Nothing worked!

I called Craig; there was nothing he could do other than listen.

So I couldn’t put it off any longer.  I had to call Katie and cancel the lovely dinner plans that would’ve been the highlight of my week.

When the doorbell rang an hour later, everything felt better…because when I talked to Katie, she had a solution, not to the Norman issue but to the cancelled dinner.  She would wrap up all the food she had prepared (And Katie’s an excellent cook.), and she would wrap up Maddy and Nicholas, and she would bring the party to us.

She brought me a beer, too.

It was awesome.

The mess I had made, and the accidentally entombed cat were no longer insurmountable.  I knew it would work itself out because, in that moment, Katie saw what I needed and did it.

She took care of me.

Later that night, I heard Norman meow at one of the many holes I’d placed in the ceiling.  I wasn’t great at grabbing him, so I placed a large pillow under the opening. His invisible, euro murse packed to the brim with nonchalance, he stepped onto it and leapt to the floor.

I’m sure he zipped off to his water and litter box, but I didn’t stick around to find out.

I went straight to bed after a huge sigh.

But to get back on track, Katie’s not the only person I’ve been privileged to call a true friend.  I have so many.

So here’s my thank-you note to the ladies who’ve befriended me:

Dear friends,

When I sing, you urge me louder.

When I throw dinner together, you ask for the recipe.

When I don’t look my best, you call me beautiful.

When I cry, you dry my tears and pray.

When I’m hungry, you feed me a meal.

When I feel unwanted, you grab me.

When I see the irony, you laugh.

When my vision grows fuzzy, you lend me perspective.

When I become poetic, you get the metaphor.

When I play with words, you call me a writer.

When I don’t have the answer, you’re the handbook.

When my words are tangled, you understand.

When I’m lost, you welcome me in.

When we laugh too hard, you sober me up.

When others are deaf, you hear.

When others go, you stay.

God uses you.

Thank you for all of these things.  Thank you for teaching me how to be not just a friend—you teach me how to be a good friend.

There’s a world of difference.

You’re in my heart,

Laura

P.S.  Hold on to your hats because here comes more cuteness:

Maddy, Katie, Emma

Emma and Maddy: School Together

 

Maddy and Emma

 

Emma and Maddy: Murray Hill Park

Thank-You Notes: To Those Who Persevere

 11 But flee from these things, you man of God, and pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, perseverance and gentleness. (1Timothy 6, NASB)

Back in the mid-1990s I was A) bored B) disillusioned C) unsure about what to do about it.

Ever since graduating from Baylor, I had worked at one of the larger aerospace companies in the north Texas area, but my work life hadn’t turned out as I’d envisioned.  Although I made a good salary, was blessed with a ninety-five percent trustworthy coworker rating*, and had excellent benefits—I wasn’t satisfied.  After all, there didn’t seem to be enough work to fill the day or much opportunity for advancement.

So I started searching.  For anything.  I searched for anything that would be a ‘better’ alternative—jobs, school programs, starting a business, running away with the circus (I would take Craig along, of course.).

I’m not sure I prayed much about it, but I did consult Craig.  The result was that I decided to take the LSAT, most likely after watching one too many episodes of LA Law.  Who wouldn’t want to be Grace Van Owen, right?

 

Susan Dey and Harry Hamlin in LA Law

And scarily enough, I nailed that test…and a vista opened before me containing the best Texas law schools.

It was a heady feeling for a young woman who harbored a fair amount of hidden but deep-seated insecurity.  And you know the funny thing about insecurity, don’t you?  It’s such close friends with pride.  They’re as inseparable as two sides of a coin.  Seriously—can insecurity even be born without a fair amount of pride residing within a person?

So I quit my job, and I moved back to Waco because we had decided that Baylor Law was my best alternative.

And things went well at first.  I made study buddies, I kept up with the work, I survived some close calls with the Socratic method, and I tried to like law school.

Unfortunately, this is when the sticky part of the story starts.  This is when I write the stuff about which I’d rather not write.

I’d prefer not to tell you what a costly and bad decision I made**, because I just didn’t have it in me to stick with this thing.  I didn’t love it much less like it, I didn’t have a hunger for it, and it was costing too much money.  And it was costing too much personally for me to continue in it.  Yeah, I don’t think I mentioned that my husband was still living up in the Dallas area, finishing up his Masters degree.  We only saw each other on the weekends (So instead of the circus, I ran away to law school, and left my heart in Dallas.).

To top it all off, our savings was running out much faster than we had anticipated.

One Sunday evening, I looked at Craig as he was about to leave for Dallas, and I knew I couldn’t go back to class the next morning.

It seemed impossible.

So I quit.  I threw away an opportunity for which many people would gladly pay a small body part.

I look back on it now, and I know it was the right thing to quit.  I’m glad I did it—I didn’t and don’t want that lifestyle.  I’m glad I stopped the madness.

But at the time, I felt as if I’d failed.  I didn’t persevere, and I felt like a quitter.  And that feeling clung to me for a long, long time.

I’m glad I no longer see it that way because those ‘quitter’ feelings, understandable at first, were ridiculous in the long term.  I’m pretty sure that when the Bible teaches on perseverance that it’s not referring to being so stubborn that you cling to a bad decision.

In fact, I believe that the Bible is referring to something much more mind-stretching and beautiful.  It speaks of persevering in our continued growth as a believer (sanctification)—Hebrews 12:1-2; Romans 5:1-5; persevering in our assigned ministry—Luke 8:15; and persevering in our belief that God is going to take some of the crappiest (Excuse my French.) life experiences, turn them upside down, and use them for His glory and our good—Romans 8:28; James 1:12.

But perseverance is good in other ways as well.  When the parent with the child with a learning disability doesn’t give up but searches for ways to help them, that’s good.  When a father with no options but a thankless job doesn’t get in a car and drive, drive, drive far away because he cares more for his family than his ego, that’s good.  When loving grandparents raise their grandchildren because their own children are too immature to handle their responsibilities, that’s good.  When a person stays in a marriage with an unappreciative spouse and continues to demonstrate love to their partner, that’s good.

It’s always good when we make a commitment worth making, a right decision; then we stay with it even though it goes beyond difficult to heartbreaking to keep.

Only by the grace of God, I’ve done some of those things.  I’ve stuck with the important decisions when I haven’t had the care or energy to do so.  I’ve kept promises when not doing so would leave a trail of destruction.  And leaving law school didn’t leave a trail of destruction.  In fact, it enabled me to focus on getting a new job and moving back to Dallas to be with Craig.

I stopped questioning it a long time back.

But even better, I’ve seen some of you stick with those right decisions as well, giving the precious gift of a good example to the rest of us.

Even worse, I’ve seen some of you walk away, leaving a hurricane-ravaged landscape behind you; yet you never cared enough to look back.

Dear Persevering One:

Thank you for walking on.  I know you’re tired of going to the grocery store and rousting teenagers from their beds.  I am, too.  I know you’re scared of letting people down or not living up to your potential.  I am, too.  I know you want to give up, but you won’t.  By the grace of God, I won’t either.

Instead you’ll get some rest, take a deep breath, get yourself up, and try again.

Bravo.

Your most ardent admirer,

Laura

Author’s note:  I know I’ve oversimplified decision-making.  Only you can say whether or not my conclusions might work for you.  You may have many more variables to consider.  However, if you have made a decision which has left destruction in it’s wake, please consider taking it to God, asking him for forgiveness, and seeking direction from Him in the Bible and by prayer on how to make amends.  If you’re a Christ-follower, then God wants to give you second times infinity chances.  Even still, people won’t always allow you to mend your relationships with them.  Trust may be lost.  But if nothing else and in my opinion, you should make every effort to tell those you’ve hurt that you’re sorry and ask for forgiveness.

If you’re not a Christ-follower and seeking to know God better, you might want to start with Romans 5:8.

*This is Laura’s rating for the number of coworkers one could trust out of a pool of 100 random workers she might have encountered at the company.  In this case, she would estimate that approximately 95 out of 100 people at the company were trustworthy (Fantastic!).  This is a totally random number and based on nothing other than her feelings.

**I’m in no way saying that law school is a bad decision for you. ;)

Thank-You Notes: Steven, Part III

So while touring the Louvre, at the base of the Eiffel Tower, and around Versailles, I acted as if everything was still status quo.

And through the Chunnel, and scrambling around London to pick up our rental car, I never uttered a peep.

I acted a part.

I acted as if my life wasn’t changing in a huge way.

Maybe other people are prepared, but I wasn’t.

I wasn’t prepared for my first small taste of what it would feel like to have another’s life in my hands.

My second phone call (vaster-distance this time) was a bit better in that I received some true care or at the least, some comforting advice.  And I didn’t mind their matter-of-fact tone at all.

“This happens quite often in early pregnancy.  But you need to stay in bed a few days, and take it easy.  You need to keep your feet up, and don’t lift anything heavy.”

Like a dash of cold water had been thrown in my face, my thinking was clarified.  This was scary but in a good way.  Scary because there was the possibility I might lose this baby, but good because I knew that I did want to be a mom no matter how overwhelming the responsibility seemed.

So I parked myself in bed with a book and wrote in my journal for Craig.

Honey, I miss you more than I can say.  I cannot wait to see you, tell you all about the trip and (insert mildly private comment here.).  You are such a good husband, and I know you will make a great father.  In fact, it makes the thought of parenting so much more comforting to know you will be there with me. 

But what would I tell my cousin about my sudden need for rest?

I was rather shy about it, so I let my mother tell him; I’m not sure what she said exactly, but I was not asked any questions that might embarrass me (Thank you, Mom!).

Not that my cousin would be insensitive, anyway.

Honestly, I can’t remember if the three of us talked about the baby or not, but whatever the case, I was able to take it easy for the next few days.

Steve, however, didn’t have to tell me that he cared about our situation.  He’s such a gentleman that he just did things without any prompting.  Of course, Steven has always had a servant’s heart.

He still does.

Anyway, after he and mom came back from that first day without me, he had purchased me a couple of Staffordshire dogs.  Something I have always wanted (Isn’t taste unaccountable?) but something I might not have been able to afford on this trip.  Yep, he knew it and he bought them for me.

And he carried my suitcases whenever we moved to a new location, and he made the trip as stress-free as possible because he took on 99.9% of the driving.  He’s the kind of guy who just sees a need, and if he’s able, he steps in.

That’s the kind of guy he is.

Dear Steve,

Thank you for treating me as you normally would…because I needed that.  After all, my personality was not submerged because I was soon to become a parent.

Thank you for buying me those ugly dogs…I still love them.  In fact, they sit on my mantel even as I type this.

Thank you for carrying around my heavy luggage without complaint, and driving us around the upside-down and backward roads of Great Britain without incident.

Thank you for giving me a real hug every time you see me.  When people hug me like that, it causes something in me to forget the scary stuff for just a moment.

Thank you for being silly with me…and mom, too (She loves being goofy.).

Thank you for being my friend.

Your crazy cousin,

Laura

Epilogue:

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump…

“You told me it would be fast.”

“That’s how a normal baby heartbeat sounds.”

“Cool.  I love it.”

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Thank-You Notes: Steven

Thank-You Notes: Steven, Part II

Thank-You Notes: Steven, Part II

Over the next several days I began to experience some new sensations—my sense of smell grew beyond all proportion (Pre-pregnancy, I didn’t know we lived in a world with such varied kinds of, um, aromas.).  About a week and a half later, my stomach decided it didn’t like London fish and chips at all.  But otherwise, I tried to carry on as normal.  In fact, I didn’t tell my cousin that I was pregnant even though I did tell my mom and dad—Craig and I felt it would be better for mom to know in case I had any difficulties while travelling.

So we arrived and began our explorations, but mom and I didn’t talk about the pregnancy because I had a huge desire to keep it quiet, and I needed to act like everything was usual.  Truth be told, I’m sure I would’ve felt a little awkward bringing it up with my guy cousin despite the fact I’ve always considered him a close friend.

Not long after we hit the ground in Paris, we were walking over to the Louvre—it was only a few blocks from the Hôtel de la Tamise, the place we were staying, so it made a good place to hang out our first day.

I can’t remember much about that day (We were so jet-lagged.), but I do remember walking up to the Louvre, and feeling taken aback by the stunning juxtaposition of the I. M. Pei pyramid against the older architecture of the rest of the museum.

Isn’t everyone?

Funnily enough, I also remember being relieved to sit down and drink a slightly strange-tasting Diet Coke in a basement café later that afternoon.

After all, snack breaks are always a good thing.

In a journal I was keeping for Craig I wrote:

The plane ride was grueling, the taxi driver possibly “took us for a ride,” and we have not showered in over twenty-four hours (I think); but Paris is still one of the loveliest cities I have ever seen.  On the to-do list today:  1) Check into our hotel.  2) Visit the Louvre.  3) See the Eiffel Tower.  4) Buy post cards.

The Louvre was wonderful.  It had that peaceful, museum feeling at times and then pandemonium the next.  Although I didn’t think the crowds as bad as we had been warned.  We viewed the Mona Lisa, Venus d’Milo and several other great works of art…. 

People are friendlier than expected, more flowers are in bloom, the trees have not yet turned to their autumn colors, and the architecture on many of the old buildings is cool.

None of these observations were earth-shattering, but I’m glad I kept a short, albeit unimaginative, journal to take back to Craig.

After a rather non-touristy day at a marché aux puces helping Steve shop for antiques for his business (“Combien ça cout?” I repeatedly inquired while trying to figure the price with the exchange rate via calculator.), and eating gourmet, artichoke pizza out of a temporary store front at the market; we visited Notre Dame, St. Chappelle and Versailles on our last day in France.

Here’s a smattering of what I wrote:

We were rather disappointed in Notre Dame…

St. Chappelle was lovely.  The exterior stonework is wearing down giving it a fanciful look…it’s all painted woodwork inside—blue, red and gold.

Versailles was the highlight for me.  The size was incredible…we learned a bit about the different personalities of the kings and their times by viewing the rooms they decorated…

The grounds were wonderful…fountains and statues were everywhere.  My favorite part was the Queen’s Village.

Okay, we did find some fall leaves.

Through the Chunnel to England, and through it all, I tried to act as if nothing was unusual.

I think I was pretty good at it.  

But my flimsy facade was soon to crumble.

 

 

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Thank-You Notes: Steven

Thank-You Notes: Steven

A little over seventeen years ago in mid-October…

“I-I think I might be pregnant.  I took a pregnancy test and it was positive, but I’m leaving on a trip later today.  Do I need to come in before I leave?”  My voice shakes as I slump on the edge of our bed with the receiver pressed to my ear.  I'm worried they'll tell me that I shouldn't travel.

“No, honey.  You don’t need to come in until you’re (insert what seems a light year away) along.  Though we can make you an appointment today,” the nurse replies in a manner so matter-of-fact it causes me to have an odd sensation…maybe of confusion mingled with a little embarrassment.  I was supposed to call, right?  Don’t they care about me?  Shouldn’t someone congratulate us?

“Oh.  I didn’t know.”  I pause to gather my thoughts before I continue, “Is there anything I need to know or do?  Can I call you if anything comes up while I’m away?”

“Of course.  Let me transfer you to the front desk, so you can make your appointment, and we’ll call in a prescription for prenatal vitamins.”

And with that, my anticlimactic phone call was over, leaving me with the feeling I’d done something wrong by calling the doctor’s office and not feeling reassured at all about travelling so far after learning this life-changing news.

Later that afternoon as Craig was taking pictures of my mom, my cousin Steve and me at the gate before we boarded the plane to Paris; I felt a weird mix of excitement over our trip mingled with uncertainty about this new thing supposedly going on inside me.

To be frank, it was a little unnerving because I wasn’t expecting positive results so soon despite the fact we’d been trying to start a family for some time.  I hadn’t been ready to consult a doctor before that point (I wasn’t sure if I wanted to consult a doctor.).  When I finally got around to mentioning it to my OB, he quickly ran a blood test to check my hypothyroidism and discovered my medication levels were off.

Yep.  It was as simple as adjusting a medication level in our case, but in the meantime, I had started to get accustomed to the idea of never having children.  I had been through all the grief of hearing of others’ pregnancies and grown tired of feeling the pain and hiding the tears. I was ready to begin to let that particular dream go.  So I started mentally listing the positives of never having children and realized life wouldn’t be so grim without offspring and with a husband who was committed to our marriage.  In fact, there were many upsides to opting out of the incredible, but mixed blessing of parenthood.

Maybe subconsciously I didn’t want to grow up…because that’s what parenthood does after all.  There’s no escaping it.

Why then did I mention it to the doctor?  Well, I must’ve been undecided about never having children after all.  He adjusted my medication and POOF! I’m pregnant, just when I thought I should give up and count my blessings (Okay, yes, there’s a little more to it than POOF!).

Just when I had decided that life would be good with or without children.

I believe God loves to surprise a submissive heart.

So I boarded the plane for Paris with a tiny stowaway.

to be continued