Letting Them Bloom

This must be the 13th post in the Bloom Where You're Planted series instigated, yes I said instigated, by The Nester.  I say "instigated" because this blogging every day stuff is hard.  I want to skip it.  But if I weren't writing to you my friend, if I weren't looking for good stuff in my life, I would probably be staring blankly at the TV.  I figure for me, right now, this is better!

This "blooming where you're planted" stuff isn't just for me.  It isn't just for grownups who pout because this fridge is smaller than the other one or introverted moms who would prefer to hide in their own little heads and not make the friends they desperately need.

The kiddos need to bloom, too.

They need to be allowed to bloom, to make their own new life in this new place.

They need help to find their way.

Robert started school at a traditional, public school for the first time in his life on September 17.  This is the right thing for right now.  My high energy, extroverted boy was wilting at home with his introverted momma who used up all her words by noon each day.  Big decisions are always complicated but I have to admit that at this time, it is the right thing for this child.

This week he brought home his second invitation to a birthday party.  I know nothing about this kid, these people, this place.  Nothing.  This is not my usual mode of operation, to drop my kid off with people I don't know to do who knows what.

On several occasions this week I contemplated losing the invitation and hoping he would forget.  "Do you really want to go?"  I asked.

I knew this was my problem, my own personality holding this boy back.

I knew it wasn't fair.  Or right.

Grab the purse and throw in a book, prepared to sit there the entire two and a half hours if circumstances or safety issues warrant my presence.  Take the boy.

It was a small place about eight minutes from my house where people can race some kind of toy car on a slot track or something.  The party was the only gig going on.  The birthday boy's parents greeted me at the door with a big sister, plenty of people to keep an eye on eight boys indoors.

I thanked the boy's mom for inviting my son, the new kid.

Robert's eyes pleaded for me to go.  So I did.

When my husband brought him home, he informed me that the folks there said Robert was the life of the party.  He beamed as he told us about his new friends.

I didn't see this coming, but it's right.

Letting him bloom, getting out of the way, this is right.

learning to let him bloom,
m

If you only read three others from this series:
Love Does, our story
Good to Know...another story about Robert settling in...
When you move back home...

Love Does, our story

This is the 10th, or maybe the 11th post in the Bloom Where You're Planted series inspired by Mary Englebreit and The Nester's 31 Days series.  

Almost 13 years ago, I traveled from Tulsa, Oklahoma  to North Carolina for a wedding.  

My wedding.

Love does that kind of thing.

Sometimes love even goes out on a limb like that.

We married six days after I arrived and settled into my husband's home.  We worked together, faced trials together, made a life together.

Love does that kind of thing.

We rocked three babies together.  We reached across the dark to feel our little ones breathe.

Love does things like that day after day, long night after night.

I was in North Carolina for almost 13 years.  We made a life but every day there was a moment when I was not at home, because my heart wanted to be Home.

This summer, B applied for a position in Oklahoma so that I could be close to my family.  It was a long shot. 

Did you know that divine intervention is real?

About four weeks later, he was in Oklahoma.  I stayed another month and then he came back to get us, to move us 1,280 miles. 

Let's not pretend.  He came back to get me, to move me 1,280 miles.

Love does that kind of thing.  Love goes out on a lot of limbs.

B left his friends to bring me back to my old friends.

Love does that kind of thing.

He left his family so that I could be with mine.

Love does that sometimes.

Love talks and dreams and plans and waits.  These things are sweet and smooth and they feed the soul.  These things blow gently like a warm breeze or soothe like cool water.

But love also does.  Love takes action and wields power.  Love has the undeniable power to blow pine trees over in the night and move the seashore, little by little, like the tide.  There is power in a love that does.

Love is like that sometimes. 

Love talks and dreams and plans and waits.  These things are good.

But I am also blessed by a love that does.

Thanks B,

michele

If I Were Someplace Else

This about the 8th or 9th post in the Bloom Where You're Planted series.  Thirty-one days of learning to put down roots and grow and really live right here.  The Nester started all this so you might want to click on over there and check her out.  To read the rest of the posts in the Bloom Where You're Planted series, go here Bloom.

Wishing to be somewhere else is a dangerous game.  I suspect it would pretty much kill your chances of living fully where you are.

I am not doing that today.

I am going to practice being grateful today.

Today, right here, is a list of things that would NOT have happened if I were someplace else:

My kids playing for hours at the park with their cousins.

Seeing the sunset over the pond while Eight counts frog calls in the dark for Frogwatch USA.

Signing school papers for Almost Ten and listening to him discuss the personality traits of various teachers.  (Apparently Mr. C and I have much in common.  In other words, don't annoy him either due to his tendency toward crabbiness.)

A raccoon standing in a flower pot on my front porch eating bird seed.  (Yeah, I know that isn't a raccoon, apparently my flowerpot is a wildlife magnet cause that's where he was.)

A raccoon/skunk trap in my yard.

Eight getting mad at his daddy for ruining his science experiment by watering one of the four plants meant for his science experiment.  He allegedly watered the one that was supposed to get "no water" when he washed the porch after removing the raccoon trap.

Making Angie's three layer chocolate cake.  Wow.

The kids making plans to spend Christmas Eve at their grandparents, without us!

Things that would not have happened if we were somewhere else. Good things.  

I am sure there would have been other good things, but not these things.  These things are precious, and I am watching for more!

m

More Than an Existence

"The purpose of life isn't to arrive at death safely..."
Christine Caine

Days fly by and it would be easy to give in to exhaustion, to wish for the end of our To Do list.  But is that really what we want?  The end of the list?

Maybe the list should be revised.

Our goal, you and me, is not to survive the day but to thrive in the day.

Our goal is definitely NOT to make it to the end but to make the end, the middle and all the rest as full of life as we are able.  We are to make life.

We are here to live and in life, to glorify.

We are gifted for this.

It is through the life we live that others can see life and want it, too.

Wherever we are today, you and me, live well right there.

I feel a cool, clean breeze in this calm moment where I can complete an entire thought while my children play in the Oklahoma sun.  

Where are you really, right now?

When Your Neighbor is Really a Superhero

Neighbors.  They are always butting in.  Then again, maybe that is just a matter of perspective.  

When you are looking for reasons to settle instead of reasons to run, it's like seeing flowers in the sunlight instead of the dark.  Like seeing them the way they are meant to be seen.

As a family we tend to keep to ourselves.  When we moved to Oklahoma a month ago, we leased a home to give us time to find our way around before buying our "long-time" house. 

We moved into an older house with red bricks and a big porch in a beautiful old neighborhood with big beautiful trees, expansive lawns and swimming pools.

We moved in next to McBride.

McBride is 89.  His grown son lives three houses down around the corner in an ultra-modern home built in the 1950's.  My kids call it The Fortress of McBriditude.  We suspect that is where McBride goes when he needs to hide from his public.

You see, McBride is a super hero.

I don't know how they began to suspect it but we are pretty sure it's true.  

Maybe it is the rumor about McBride climbing on his roof.  This rumor was told to Eight and me over the fence by his own son.  McBride's son said that if we saw him on the roof, we should tell him to get the h#)) off.  Eight told me later that he shouldn't talk to McBride's son without supervision because he cusses.  I tried not to laugh at his self-monitoring...be careful little ears what you hear.

I think we actually got the idea about McBride because of  how he mows his lawn.  He is incredibly fast.  Not for an 89-year-old man but incredibly fast for any man.  His aforementioned son said that he mows fast so that he can get in the pool.  He gets in the pool even when its freezing.  This is Oklahoma people.  It gets cold when the wind comes sweeping down the plains.

About three mornings ago I looked out my kitchen window and there was a ladder leaned against McBride's roof.  I know now that he does get on the roof.  But I also know his secret, he doesn't fly.  I will never tell.

Yesterday Almost Ten climbed up in the old sycamore tree between my drive and McBride's.  My husband was watching from the window as he tested a new freedom. When Bob walked out to check on him, he discovered McBride on his way out.  With a ladder.

McBride to the rescue.

My children are delighted to live next to a hero.  My children are delighted to live next door to McBride.

here's to seeing the flowers in the daylight,
m



The other posts from Boom Where You're Planted:
Good to Know
Bloom Where You're Planted
Blooms Start With Buds
Roots
It Takes Work to Make Blooms

Good to Know

Even though we had been there at least every year for their whole lives, this summer was different.  When we were there in July, the three children were, well, they were strange.  They were quiet and as four days passed, they got quieter.  It was embarrassing really.  I felt like a bad mother.  

Then we moved.  Now that place we used to visit is just down the road.  This time when we went to visit their grandparents, they were strange.  It was embarrassing really.  I felt like a proud mother.  It was wonderful to see those three children bubbling with energy and emotion and raw enthusiasm for life and making memories.  

At one point I thought my daughter was going to stand  in her chair at the table trying to tell a story to the family.  Her family. 

We were celebrating Almost Ten's birthday.  He smiled when he saw the balloons tied to a line from the house to the bell.  His smile bloomed full when he saw the sign on the front porch.  The sign they tied there just for him.

He knew the cake was going to be there so that was no surprise but the pinata on the table blew his mind.  When we all stood around watching him open his gifts, gifts chosen just for him, that boy turned redder than an atomic fireball candy.  The best part was that he knew those gifts were chosen for him.  He knew that his grandparents and his aunt had picked them out just for him.  He knew we had conspired to make this special, for him.

His laughter rang around the house as he chased his brother and sister.

He said he'd never had a birthday party before.  I frowned, we always have a birthday party.  Then I realized what he meant, "But it was always just the five of us, wasn't it?"

It was strange really, how the children had changed.  Their perspective had changed.  They are no longer visitors in this place.  Now they belong.  The people here know these children now in ways they had only glimpsed before and it feels good to be known.

It feels good to be known.

It's good to know.

love,

m

This continues the 31 day series on blooming where you are planted.   For more encouragement on choosing to live completely right here, right now, follow along by subscribing or liking the page on Facebook.  The other posts are here:

Bloom Where You're Planted
Blooms Start With Buds
Roots
It Takes Work to Make Blooms

Grateful for Today

This month I am writing for 31 days on how to "Bloom Where You're Planted" and its late and its Friday and I almost forgot entirely.  (Thanks to Kellie R. for remind me tonight that I blog!)  

Part of building a life right where you are is finding wonderful little things right, well, where you are.  And there.  And over here.  So, I don't want to keep you but let me show you just a few of my little things.

Behind every one of them is a big, beautiful prayer of thanks.

Feel free to share your own wonderful things...
m


The other posts so far...
Bloom Where You're Planted
Blooms Start With Buds
Roots
It Takes Work to Make Blooms

It Takes Work to Make Blooms

This is the fourth post in the 31 day series, "Bloom Where You're Planted" and let me say, this takes work!

It's hard to post every day.  It's hard for me to even remember to post every day. 

I am the woman set a daily alarm to remind me to pick up my 4th grader.  Seriously, I am scared to death that I am going to be late to get my boy.  Sure, I would remember eventually...what was I saying?

We are trying to think big, learn the layout of this town and find what our kids call our "long-time" house.

There are boxes to unpack, totally new routines and unexpected expenses.

My temper is often short and there is much hard work.

If you want beautiful blooms and good roots, you have to do the work.  You have to do the work when the earth is still rocky and barren and maybe you can't see anything good.

At least not yet.

Seedlings start small and they are fragile and tough at the same time.  You have to protect seedlings from frost but even tiny plants can grow through concrete.  I choose to keep sowing.

The rules of the harvest say you reap what you sow, you reap later than you sow, and you reap more than you sow.

I will keep sowing.

Roots

This is the third post in the 31 day series "Bloom Where You're Planted" for the month-long blog party at The Nesting Place.  After a cross-country move back to the place where I was raised, this is a time to focus on living completely present in each day.  For you and me, it's the perfect time to stop wishing for what might be and live fully right where, and when, we are at this moment.

I have it easy I think.

My move was back home.  Back to my roots.

I am soaking it up.  Soaking up familiar restaurants, the same old streets, friends that I have known for 31 years and their grown children and grandchildren.  Grandchildren!

Back to my roots. 

Fed by my roots.

Knowing family in new ways-we are all 12 years older now-but loving the familiar sound of their voices, their senses of humor and our shared memories.

Even the land feeds me.  I love the way everything seems to be moving in the Oklahoma wind.  I love knowing instinctively which direction I am going even when I don't know where I am going.  I love the big airy sky open for all to see and the miles and miles of land.  Feels like I can finally take a deep breath.

I love that my kids and husband are seeing me in a way that they never have before.

Never realized that my own roots could feed me this way.  It makes me happy to plant a whole new life here. 

It will take hard work and constant tending to start again in a new place.  I am planning on a good harvest. 

michele

The other posts in this series...
Bloom Where You're Planted
Blooms Start With Buds

Feel free to subscribe by email or if you find it easier (like I do) just like the community page on Facebook at:  Traveler In My Own Backyard

Blooms Start with Buds

The Nester challenged us to write for 31 days on one topic.  I don't have it in me so I've asked for divine help and I am Giving Up On Perfect so there won't be any pictures of my actual "bud" in this post.  However, the commitment is made and I am showing up where I am supposed to be!



Change is good sometimes and in truth, I love change.

However.

When your whole basket of life gets thrown up in the air, you struggle to catch it all and it seems like most of it lands in different places than before.  Well, that can be a little hard on a girl.

We moved. Again. My husband and I gave our word to each other.  One more move before the old folks' home.  I mean it.  When we arrived I found myself closed right down.  I didn't want to unpack or put my things in another cabinet that didn't belong to me.  I didn't want to spend another dollar on a house that wasn't mine.  As far as moving goes, I was done before I got here.

Then my kid unpacked the bird feeder.  He was happy with this find, you know the cheap plastic kind with a green roof.

The front window is really big and as we sat in front of it looking out and doing school, we saw a perfect view of a bird feeder.  If we hung one up, that is.  So I found my shepherd's hook and got my purple flip flops dirty when I pushed it into the thick clay.

The grocery around the corner had bird seed.  A smallish bag with no commitment suited me perfectly.

Wouldn't you know it?  There were mums by the front door of the store.  Big, beautiful mums of that unusual orange color.  That bird lovin' boy likes orange right now.

The kids and I marched out with great ceremony and set our stage, hook, bird feeder, seeds and orange mums in a terra cotta pot borrowed from the rented garage.

A bud, all balled up and tight loosens a little.  The first of the fall.  It's a tiny orange mum.  In case you're wondering.



Other posts you might like:
Bloom Where You're Planted
Superman's Secret Identity Revealed
and the big reveal...
The post where I secretly talk about maybe moving to Oklahoma but I can't tell anyone yet.

Bloom Where You're Planted

"Bloom where you're planted."  

Mary Engelbreit

Maybe I have the heart of a nomad.

I moved 13 times that I can remember--before I was 23 years old.  Maybe I am just not afraid to move.

Maybe I know that this world is temporary and so it's hard to feel at home anywhere.

Less than a month ago, my husband and I moved our family 1,280 miles to be near my family.  That wonderful man changed jobs, gave up some retirement, and spent quite a bit of money to bring me back home.

I lived in North Carolina for almost 13 years and now I'm back home in Oklahoma.

I wasted alot of time in North Carolina hoping for a possibility and wasting some of that present.

God forgive me.

Forgive me for squandering a million little gifts.  Beautiful days at the beach or in the cool of the mountains, mild winters and wisteria vines that covered acres of trees like a big, purple net.  Pine trees everywhere and tangy barbecue sauce that soaked into pulled pork leaving only red pepper and a tangy bite that goes perfectly with cole slaw.  Kudzu.  People, this Oklahoma girl had never seen anything like that before, vines like great, green ghosts covering entire miles.

Forgive me, too, for complaining when I finally got what I wanted.  Complaint is a dangerous thing.

Though I have been transplanted and though we are still in the throes of adaptation, I am making a choice.

I will bloom where I am planted.  This time I will bloom.

I will not compare the two lives I have lived.  I will miss old friends and continue to love them and I will leave this house and make more friends.  I will not get  my feelings hurt because I will choose to love here.

I will look for beautiful blooms that I haven't seen in 13 years.

I will make a life right here.

There are many beautiful things blooming already.  

One kid is at home at the local elementary school.  He is blooming.  This neighborhood just feels good.  The time I have had with family is precious, so is knowing it is not limited by miles anymore.  Old friends have come out of nowhere to help us.   I soak these things right up, and I bloom.

Who would have thought blooms came in the form of Braum's brownie fudge sundae and sweet barbecue beef brisket?  The constant breeze that is sometimes a hot wind and how everyone has a fenced yard because everyone seems to have a dog.  All the wonderful geographical names that come from the Native American language and make me smile because as yet I am the only one in my family that can pronounce them correctly.

My children will really know my family.  That may be the sweetest bloom of all.

The weight of what my husband did for me still surrounds me all heavy at times.  It is as powerful as the summer sun and I bloom.

It feels good to have roots in the dirt.  It feels good to bloom.

m

This post is the first in a month-long series where I get to go visit over at The Nesting Place.  This is quite an endeavor, a post every day for 31 days, but it is good to do hard things, right?  These posts, Bloom Where You're Planted, will be in the Inspiration & Faith category.  I am sure you will find lots of goodies there, enjoy!