Looking backward while going forward

Last weekend Adam and I drove two cars to his parent's house in Grapevine. He was coming from the barbershop and I was coming from the mechanic. We were on the same highway at the same time, but I was a little bit ahead of him.
I drove the exact speed limit the entire time so he could catch up and I could wave at the kids. He never caught up. I reached our destination and waited there.
The entire time I was driving, I was looking in the rear view mirror. Of course I also looked out through the windshield, but mostly I was looking backward.
Then I realized I couldn't move forward safely or swiftly while I was looking behind me. And then I realized my situation was a parallel to my life.
We all have things in our past that we hope or fear will catch up with us. Maybe it's something good, like a moment whene everything was perfect. Or maybe it's something bad, like an argument that replays over and over in our heads. Either way, we can't move forward if we're constantly looking backward.
Because I slowed down to find Adam, the world whizzed past me. I was stuck in the right hand lane, looking at my rear view mirror and everyone else was looking out their windshield moving on. When you're focusing on the past, the present will pass you by.
It's also dangerous to focus on what's behind you. I could have been in an accident. If something had happened right in front of me, I wouldn't have been prepared to deal with it. Living in the past means you're not prepared to deal with the future.
So for safety reasons, as well as metaphor reasons, I will no longer drive forward while looking backward.

Funny Stuff

Yesterday Paul picked up a piece of firewood and tried to put it in the fireplace. He saw Adam start a fire last week and wanted to do it himself.
I taught Claire the word "flock" as in birds, but she is now using it every time she sees a large quantity. "Look at that flock of cars!" she said this week.
Paul just walked in wearing a toboggan and one of Claire's dress up shoes.
My grandfather gives Claire all his free address labels from charities. She sticks them all over the house. Yesterday, during a tea party, I was scraping some off of her table. "Why are you doing that?" she wanted to know. I realized then she wanted those stickers there. I thought it was just a mess, but apparently it was interior design.
Every day the kids do something hilarious, and I struggle to document it now. However, I must close this list because apparently it's Curious George's birthday and I must attend the party.

A Child's Pain

Two days ago we were driving to church. I was thinking about the eight tasks I had to complete there and about the bookclub discussion I was about to lead. My to-do list scrolled through my mind when I glanced back at Claire. She looked sad.
All of the sudden, the entire world fell away and the only job I had to do was whatever it took to make her happy.
It turned out that she wasn't sad, only tired. I had forgotten she didn't take her nap that day. Her expression and my response triggered a new line of thinking.
As Jesus' crucifixtion drew closer, he and his Father both knew it. It must have been excruciating for both of them. Obviously Jesus wasn't exactly looking forward to dying on the cross and his Father must have been worrying and trying to figure out another way. When a child is sad or injured, the emotions are magnified in the parent.
I think about what I was prepared to do for Claire because she might have been sad. And then I think about God and what he had the power to do with his Son. They both chose the hard way and 2010 years ago, people are still being blessed because of it.

Fat body and dirty house = happy kid

This morning I tried to workout. Every time I pressed play on the exercise program, Paul screamed and raised his arms at me.
I tried to sweep. Paul grabbed his mini-broom and swept my nice, neat pile all over the kitchen.
Frustrated with that, I tried to sit down and journal to relieve some stress. Paul used that opportunity to use me as a jungle gym.
As I type this, he has climbed in and out of my lap, typed on the keyboard and cried.
I feel like a Mack truck has hit me this morning with the realization that I need to let some frustrations go. I will be overweight, with a dirty house and an empty journal, but I can always fix those things later. Paul won't keep. He'll be in kindergarten before I know it, and I doubt he'll still want to hold me while I exercise.
Now he wants a hat. I better go pay attention.

Long Johns

Friday the temperature was 17 degrees, so of course the entire family put on their long johns. Claire was asking why they were called that. I told her I didn't know why they were called long johns, but I did know that Long John Silver was a pirate and he said, "Arr, Matey!"
Claire informed me that these were not pirate long johns because they were not silver. "They're white with hearts on them," she said.

Fighting

Seven years ago, I got into a fight with my parents. I'm not going to rehash it and place blame, but I will tell you that the fight continues today. This morning I was thinking about the last seven years and how my communication with my parents and later, sister, has evolved.
It was the day after Christmas and circumstances led my husband Adam and I to abruptly leave my parents house in Austin. Everyone involved was very upset.
On the way back to Fort Worth, Adam and I thought, talked, and prayed. I was sick to my stomach and was crying off and on. Several accusations had been made and we felt the best way to clear up any confusion and to state our side of the story was to put it in writing. Back then there wasn't a Facebook and we didn't rely on e-mail as much as we do today.
Rather than writing my parents a letter, Adam and I both decided e-mail would be the best avenue of communication. Speaking over the phone would be too emotional and we might be interrupted or distracted. With e-mail, my parents were sure to read what we had to say and think about it.
We wrote our e-letters at Adam's office so we could both see what the other was writing and edit and critique it. We spent a couple hours crafting our words to say exactly what we felt. We sent it, hoping for a resolution within 24 hours. It didn't happen.
Because in-person meetings wouldn't be possible, my parents and I had several phone calls back and forth. Cell phones were just getting more minutes, so I had several discussions with them over cell phone.
A resolution was again not forthcoming, so we took a break. Over the next few years when we saw each other, it was awkward but not angry. Occasionally we would send each other cards, but there wasn't a pattern to it. If we were on good terms, we'd send each other cards. Otherwise, holidays and birthdays went by ignored.
We all decided that communicating via e-mail was the most effective means. Or maybe Adam and I decided and everyone followed suit. Phone calls always ended in anger, but e-mail seemed safe and easy.
When I discovered I was pregnant with Claire, I did call them. I also called when I was in labor. Their visit to the hospital included more fighting, this time with my friends and in-laws, but thankfully Adam and I were completely oblivious to it. I was busy birthing a baby and Adam was busy telling me the score of the Mavs-Suns game.
After that, communication was between my sister and I only, and it was text messages only. There was an occasional phone call, but frankly, I don't generally like talking on the phone. I'm always in the middle of changing a diaper or cooking and have a hard time forming sentences while doing something else.
About that time, I started blogging via MySpace. Unfortunately, that ended in disaster. My sister and or my parents began reading my blogs and had my grandmother call me and ask if I was suffering from depression and in danger.
More e-mails and now text messages later, I was pregnant with Paul. Adam and I thought it would be cute to send everyone an e-mail picture of my pregnancy stick. This would be fast and we could communicate with all sides of the family at the same time. Some thought that was hilarious, but my family apparently took offense.
When Paul was born, I sent an e-mail to everyone in my family and everyone at church whose e-mail address I had. My father replied to everyone a long e-mail, making very public our problems.
Since Paul's birth, I have begun regular posts of stories and pictures on Facebook. Though it might not seem like it, I think hard before every post. I try to keep it all positive and not reveal any private information. When my parents joined, I thought becoming "friends" would be a good first step toward a healthy relationship. They could see pictures of their grandkids and get daily updates. My sister could keep up as well.
I wasn't prepared for several negative posts by my father and sister. I assumed cyberspace was neutral ground. However, once again, they made our problems very public by posting them on my page. I could delete them, but since they wanted to post them, I left them up. I have nothing to hide and will tell the whole story to anyone who wants to know.
So seven years after Adam and I ran out of my parents house, we have gone from fighting in person, to fighting over cell phone, to fighting over text message, to fighting over e-mail to fighting on Facebook. Each step seems to get more technical and more public.
Yesterday I deleted my parents from my "friends." I would have also deleted my sister, but she beat me to it. She also posted on her page that her sister was "being very hateful."
I think it's sad that the fight has lasted so long. I think it's sad that 0ld-fashioned face to face communication isn't an option. I think it's sad that my family has to rely on technology to communicate with each other. I also think it's sad that now people that have never met my parents, and conversely, people that have never met me, know about our private problems.
I don't know what the future will hold, but maybe someone will come up with a technology that heals relationships.