The choice to be remade

“There are always two choices. Two paths to take. One is easy. And its only reward is that it’s easy.”

Opportunity is everywhere. And in the stillness, you can often hear it knocking. Even if the sound is faint. As this year ends, I have been in thoughtful reflection of the opportunity before me.

See, not very long ago, rock bottom became the solid foundation for which I began to rebuild my life. Finding myself in a new city, managing a new home and demanding career, while being the provider for a brood of small children has been daunting.

There are days where on my list of things to accomplish, written in my unmistakable handwriting, I write a reminder.

“Don’t forget to breathe.”

A message to myself to get up each day and be present. A daily box to check in my list of tasks.

Of course, I didn’t intend to be alone at this juncture in my life. No one gets married to get divorced.

And my intentions were never to be the only one. To clean the house. To pay the bills. To do second grade math at the kitchen table. To potty train a little boy. To be judge, jury and executioner when one daughter pulls the other’s hair.

There is a popular song on today’s radio that speaks right into my heart every time it plays.

“You are more than the choices that you've made.

You are more than the sum of your past mistakes.

You are more than the problems you create.

You've been remade.”

That’s exactly right. I am more than the choices I’ve made. The decisions that led me to where I am today will not define me in the future.

My life adds to more than the sum of my past mistakes. My failures make me a success story.

I create more than the problems assigned under my name. I create love. I create life.

I have been remade. The opportunity to begin anew. To have a second chance to do it right the first time.

When opportunity began knocking at my door, it was faint. But gradually, it became stronger. And now, the sound has become the voice in my head.

If it hadn’t been for my past choices, mistakes and problems – I would never be able to appreciate the awesome gift before me.

The gift to bend. Not break.

The gift to fail again. This time under my own volition. And succeed. Survive.

To be remade.

The gift of the daisy.

“To live is to choose. But to choose well, you must know who you are and what you stand for, where you want to go and why you want to get there.” ~Kofi Annan

Dance with me,

~Daisy

The rules of war

“After a long, hopeless war, people will settle for peace, at almost any price.” ~Salman Rushdie

Everyone I ever knew that had gone through a divorce had his or her own version of a horror story. It is absolutely evident divorce brings out the worst in people. Every skeleton hidden in the closet is dragged out and publicly displayed for review and commentary. And, the person you were supposed to trust the most in the world seemingly becomes your enemy.

After having lived through my parents’ divorce at a young age, I vowed to not allow history to repeat itself. I wanted to be the one that left quietly in the night. Took no more than my fair share. Never spoke a cross word about my husband in public. And, end up friends. Maybe not buddies. But definitely tolerable.

That philosophy was all fine and good, until the first shot was fired. The shot heard ‘round the world. Or in my case, around the town. Our church. Our social circle.

I’m convinced every divorce has that day. The day of the first shot. After that, the rules change. Even in the beginning, it seemed more like petty drama of a couple breaking up than actual life threatening maneuvering. I guess I paid little attention to the devastating effects of those first few firings from the enemy, onto my peaceful battlefield.

Maybe the reason I failed to understand the rules of this kind of war was because simply, I thought there were rules to war. Even in modern combat, there are lines that just aren’t crossed. And tactics bordering on terrorism that stay out of the combat zone. Especially when children are the hostages.

I decided no matter how dirty my once lover, turned enemy was playing – there was a certain standard I wouldn’t get below. My friends and family sang in my ear about the high road. They all told me how good it would feel in the end to not play those games.

In essence, I set my own rules for war. My rules stated no matter how bad it became or how angry I was with him, I wouldn’t do any one of these three things:

·      I will not intentionally hurt myself, or my children.

·      I will not intentionally hurt him. 

·      I will not destroy our personal property or possessions as an act of revenge.

Although paved with good intentions, the high road is very lonely. I spent many nights alone with my phone off, so I didn’t have to see or hear the latest comments or gossip. I left the community where I spent decades, quietly. I did not shout from the rooftops all the list of done-me-wrongs, nor did I try to correct the mistruths floating about me at the post office or coffee shop.

My children and I walked away with barely any of our personal belongings, so as not to create any unnecessary battles of insignificant (or significant) household items. We begged and borrowed from family and friends to fill our rental home.

I followed all the rules.

Most days, I was the only one.

Looking back on the process – I can say that truth and honor were victorious. Although, the scars from my war can never be measured. Or forgotten. And some of them will take a lot of concentration and strength, to be forgiven.  

Would I have fought a little dirtier in the war, should I know now what I didn’t know then?

No.

Daisies bend, not break.

And I will not break my own rules. Not even for him.

“If we lose love and self-respect for each other, this is how we finally die.” 

~Maya Angelou

Dance with me,

~Daisy

The best person I know

“Above all, be true to yourself, and if you cannot put your heart in it, take yourself out of it.” ~Hardy D. Jackson

Right before the beginning of the end, my family was set to celebrate the remarriage of one of my favorite uncles. My uncle had found happiness and grace with an old friend, and my family was honored to soon witness their ceremony.

This wedding was also merely days before Rudi left my life. I remember sharing with him about the upcoming occasion. He told me to pay attention during this weekend away because something profound would happen to me. In fact, he felt this weekend was directly tied to not only my future, but to his prophesy.

I remember clearly exactly when it happened. “It” being defined as the moment I knew my life was changing. I became a different person in exactly that instant and there was no going back. Ever.

The church was filled with family and friends. The wedding was about to start. I sat in a pew surrounded by my children, husband and relatives. Faint sounds of babies crying and children stirring filled the air. The music began to play and the beautiful bride walked down the aisle. The wedding was starting. My uncle and his new bride were beaming, eyes glistening and hearts thumping.

It was then that one of my children needed a restroom break. I remember my husband jumped up and removed the child from the church. And they never came back. Later, I found out they decided to play outside instead of participating in the ceremony.

But the real point to the story is what was said inside the church. The words spoken by the pastor my husband never heard. This message altered my course in life.

The pastor invited every one of the adults in the room to reflect on our partners. Our significant others. Our spouses. Or even those just in a casual relationship with each other.

He told us marriage is sacred. And the art of a long and fruitful marriage is to find the right person. Of course, right? Wasn’t this Love 101? The last thing I needed or wanted was another fairytale story about soul mates and true love. Afterall, this hadn’t been my experience with marriage.

But, the pastor went on. He told us to look at the person we came with, and he meant really look at them. Stare into their faces, look in their eyes and see them for who they really are.

I sat there without my partner. His spot was empty. I couldn’t see him for who he was in that moment, because he was gone.

Everyone else inside that church faded away and the pastor started communicating only with me. We were the only two in the room and his message was delivered right to my soul.

Chills went up and down my spine and my breath caught at what he said next.

He told me if the person I was with in life was not the “best person you know”
then don’t be with them. Look at your partner, he said. Are they the person to which I measure above all others? This person should truly define what I feel are the best values in life.

He repeated it again, just for me. Life is too precious to not spend my days with the best person I know. And the union of holy matrimony is too important to settle for less than I deserve. Less than what I believe is the most life has to offer.

I looked again beside me. All I saw were the faces of my children. No partner. I started to think about him in a general sense and I realized what I had known all along.

Rudi was right. My future became clearer.

My uncle’s wedding was beautiful. During the wedding dance, a weight was lifted off my shoulders. My body and soul floated freely to the music. I felt more alive than I had in a decade. It was almost as if I had been given permission to stop settling for less than the best.

What happened to me that day reminds me of this quote: 

“Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music.”

The best person I know can hear the music in my heart.

Dance with me,

~Daisy

Feeling homeless

“Peace - that was the other name for home.”  ~Kathleen Norris

As a child, my family moved every few years. I learned at an early age that home was where your family took shelter together. Where love abides and laughter fills the halls. We could make a home anywhere.

However, after moving so much in my youth, I longed for stability in my adult life. I had the idyllic fantasy of putting down roots in a house, the same house for all the days of the rest of my life. I envisioned myself as a white-haired grandmother walking through my home and pausing in each room. I saw myself reaching out and stroking a wall with my fingertips and feeling decades of memories come flooding back, warming my soul.

Before the end of my marriage, I sought out my mother for advice and comfort. Interestingly enough, she has worked in real estate for more than 20 years. If there’s one thing she knows, it’s houses.

I confessed to her my sorrow and struggle over leaving our marital home. Separating my children from the house we all loved. She knew I didn’t want to end up in a string of rental houses with boxes stacked in the corner and someone else’s problems to keep fixing up.

Mom’s advice to me was simple and understood, “never fall in love with something that can’t love you back.” Her words became my mantra over the first difficult months, when I found myself in a tiny hamlet of a rental house with its creaking floors and drafty windows. Her words kept me strong when I no longer had my warm garage to park in or my beautiful kitchen to cook meals.

I took her words to mean I shouldn’t fear giving up my beloved house because at the end, it was only bricks and mortar. Where you reside needs to be more than a house, it needs to be a home.

 A home filled with love, laughter, warmth and protection. Protection from hurt, anger and anguish. Tears shouldn’t readily fall in fear and uncompromise.

It hasn’t been easy this past year. It’s hard not having my own house to go home to each night. To constantly need permission to hang a photo on the wall or change paint color in a certain room. I always have a feeling of “temporary” and I can’t shake the unsettled anxiousness running through my veins.

I am the type of person that longs for a stable place to stay. I’ve moved so many times and traveled so frequently. However, I’ve done everything in my control to make our new environment inviting and warm.

I want my children to know and understand that wherever we are as a family, our love survives. No street address defines who we are. And temporary is just that.

Someday, we will fall in love with a place that will love us back. Forever. Until then, I keep sweeping the floors in our rental house and restacking the boxes lining the outer edges of my bedroom. And more often than not, I add water to the vase of fresh daisies on my table.

And on my radio, I sing along to this song…and sometimes now the tears don’t fall. Maybe I am finally ready to move away from the house that built me.

“You leave home and you move on and you do the best you can
I got lost in this old world and forgot who I am

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it

This brokenness inside me might start healing

Out here it’s like I’m someone else

I thought that maybe I could find myself

If I could walk around I swear I’ll leave

Won’t take nothing but a memory

From the house that built me”

~Miranda Lambert

Dance with me,
~Daisy

Obtaining indifference

“The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it’s indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it’s indifference.” ~Elie Wiesel

You can start a love with good intentions. Make no mistake, that’s exactly what I did.

I was just a kid out to prove the world didn’t drop off flat at the edge of my small town’s city limits. I had dreams as big as the sky and a belief all people were good and kind. Especially the man I brought home and called my very own.

It’s an accurate and true statement to say my marriage was not only lived, but survived. As day turned to night and the years passed, soon the babies came. An avid romance novel reader, I used to lay awake at night and secretly wonder to myself how the reality of my life could be so far from the romantic fiction of the pages I poured over. Even a tinge of romance would’ve kept the spark of hope alive for me. Right? No. But it might have made the inevitable prolongment more livable.

This young wife and mother grew up really quickly. I learned how to balance the unbalanceable. I righted wrongs that never should have been. And, I believed in my heart the opposite of love was in fact, hate.

Pure raw hate coursed through my veins. I felt sadness, anger and rage. I could not believe I had allowed my life to come to this. My children deserved fairytale parents. They deserved a world of fluff and fancy. Where their biggest concerns were not cemented in the tragedy of a crumbling family. I hated that I was part of a failing marriage and a failed love. I quickly came to believe sometimes love isn’t enough.

It wasn’t until the beginning of the end that I became awakened to the lesson of indifference. In learning how to truly live, survive and finally even experience real love – I learned how to learn to let go. To stop fixating on the failure. The anger. The ‘what should have, could have been.’

I have become a work in progress. There are still times when the facts of my life will bring me to my knees and the trigger reaction is to hate what has happened. To us.

It’s in those moments, I think of him and all he has taught me. And I think of the daisy. For when faced with adversity, the easiest thing in the world to do is give up. Hatred breaks you down. Makes you weak. If it hadn’t been for my before, I wouldn’t have the knowledge that I owe my life. And these experiences made me stronger. More determined to embrace life with eyes wide open.

I heard on the radio these song lyrics: "The best thing I finally learned about me was finding faith in ways, way beyond me... but I'm letting go and holding close to all the things that mean the most." ~Gloriana

  

Yes. I’m letting go. And I’m holding close, as tight as I can, all the things that mean the most.

Daisies bend. Not break. And the opposite of that former love, is finally indifference. 

Dance with me, 

~Daisy

The curbside prophet

“Love is like light and there are two kinds. The bursting fireworks of the moment and the solid, fixed stars that sometimes become obscured in the heavens, but are always there, year after year, for a lifetime. You must experience the first to appreciate the second. But be careful with the fireworks. They burn out quickly. And if you get too close, they can hurt.” ~Ann Rinaldi

If I had known then what I know now, I would have paid closer attention to the signs. As ‘they’ say in all ‘their’ infinite wisdom, hindsight is 20/20. At the time, I was so wrapped up in being a career wife and mother, meeting deadlines and making meals – I had no idea the message that was handed to me. Until it hit me with extreme clairvoyance.

I met Rudi a decent handful of months before the beginning of the end of my marriage. Under traditional circumstances, we may have become friends. Our children could’ve easily attended the same schools; our dogs could’ve fetched the same stick in the same dog park. But that intersection of fate wasn’t meant to be. Instead, Rudi was sent to teach me the difference between fireworks and stars.

Rudi is a curbside prophet. He entered my life only briefly, but his message will remain with me all my days. For, he gave me the knowledge of the daisy.

We hit it off famously. He dissected my personality in moments. He analyzed my sadness and offered hope for a brighter tomorrow. And he read my future like a fortune in the palm of his hand.

What he predicted for my heaven-on-earth could only be believed by the clinically insane. I never told anyone what transpired between us or Rudi’s prophesy. And, he left my life as quickly as he came.

It took me months to not feel his void. I would long for his guidance, as my life became very difficult, very quickly. It was right about then, my children and I packed up our few belongings and moved out to find a different course in the world.

Before he was gone for good, Rudi gave me this picture as a symbol of my future:

He once called me Daisy May.

As this story of love and life unfolded over time, I would soon come to understand why. 

Dance with me, 

~Daisy

The beginning of the end

“The only thing more unthinkable than leaving was staying; the only thing more impossible than staying was leaving.” ~Elizabeth Gilbert

My professional training dictates when the story reads negatively, it’s time to change the story.

In my personal life, this was easier said than done.

As someone’s wife for the best part of the last decade – I gave the best part of me…to him.

It’s a lesson in reality when you wake up next to someone and realize just because you took some vows and you took some chances, you don’t add up. You don’t make sense. Truth be told, we never did.

When bad became worse, the proverbial line was drawn in the sand. And, one year ago became the beginning of the end. The ‘before’ to my pursuit of happily everafter.

The hardest part for me was admitting to myself I was finally ready to call it quits. Afterall, I was no quitter. I took my marriage vows seriously and there was an expectation to last the long haul.

And then there was the house. Our house. I wanted to raise my children in this glorious home with its banisters and beams. I wanted to have 60 years of memories come flooding back to me on a porch swing one fine spring day in my golden years.

But, the line was drawn in the sand. I drew it. And I had to answer to myself if I let the waves wash it away, again. So, I got up and walked out of my reality. Never looked back. 

I just spent the last 12 months ‘getting dissolved.’

Little did I know waiting for me along my path was a symbol of innocence and purity. Planted just for me in perfect bloom. Loyalty and love. The symbol became a daisy.

The remarkable thing about a daisy – strength. They stay steadfast and strong. Bending when others would break. Hanging in there in perfect cadence.

Maya Angelou says, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” My survival is tied to the story of the daisy.

And this story I owe my life. I can’t wait to write it for it needs to be told.

Dance with me, 

~Daisy