But, God, that grass is greener....

As I was driving to the post office today, taking the long way around to enjoy the scenery, I was thinking deep thoughts. I've always done my best thinking in the car. Today, however, as I pondered the plight of the world and other complex issues, I saw something that made me turn the truck around and take a second look. As I passed a field full of sheep, I saw that one of them had squeezed his head through the fence and was happily munching on the grass on the other side. How he had managed to get his rather large head through the comparatively small hole in the fence, I will never know. But there he was, ignoring the entire field full of perfectly good grass where he was, in order to reach the very same grass on the other side.

It made me wonder how many times I've done that. How many times has God put a fence up in my life and said, "Sarah, this is for your safety. I will take care of you and provide for you and you'll never want for anything, but you need to stay away from that side of the fence."? And how many times have I wriggled my stubborn head through said fence and looked at Him innocently and said, "What? I'm still on this side of the fence."?

God, please help me not to be like that foolish sheep. Help me to be content with the bounty you have provided for me and not to question the boundaries you've set. May I realize that what is ok for someone else might not be what you want for me - and that's ok. It doesn't mean that you love them more. Give me the eyes to see the beautiful field full of lush grass you've already given me and stop obsessing about that stupid fence.

Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

I know, I never call or write; but, neither do you.


Today has been a hard day. It's been 6 years since you left (somehow I still think of it that way - I guess my brain thinks it hurts less, but my heart knows better) and I feel more lost and confused than ever. I've always known that I'd never be able to fill your shoes, but facing today, after my divorce, just confirms it. You managed to build a life with Dad and stay married til the end, and raise 2 children, through a lot of rough times. I couldn't hold it together for four years. I just feel like a failure and I wish you were here so I could talk to you about it and you could tell me what to do. But then, if you'd been here, things would have been very different.

I try not to think about how things would be if you were still here, but sometimes I can't help it. The what-ifs keep me up at night. I can't make them be quiet. If you had been here, I could have called you to ask for advice when I realized that my marriage was a mess. If you had been here, you would have beaten him for not letting me come home for holidays. If you had been here, I would have stood up for myself a lot more because I would have known that I had back up. Don't blame Dad - I pushed him away and wouldn't let him help, just like I always do. We've done the best we can; but, let's face it....you were the crazy glue that kept us all together.

I know that some people probably looked at my Facebook status and thought that I'm delusional. They probably think that I'm remembering things better than they were now that you're gone. I'm not. We had a completely dysfunctional relationship and I have a lot of scars from my childhood. Who doesn't? It's taken a lot of analyzing and crying and yelling and praying for me to come to this conclusion: you were a flawed, imperfect human being who made mistakes and completely screwed me up. But here's the rest of the story: I also know that no matter what, you did what you thought was best for me and it came from love; no matter what, you were there when I needed you, even when I didn't particularly deserve it; no matter what, you loved me just the way I was. You made me who I am today and I wouldn't trade one messed up thing about my childhood.

I remember when I was at IBC and you called me to ask if you were a good mother. You had been reading a book that had a zany, weird mother and a boring, OCD daughter, just like us. The daughter was always wishing for a "normal" mother and you asked if I felt that way. Mama, I have a confession. I lied to you when I answered that question. I told you I didn't wish that, but I wished it all the time when I was growing up. I couldn't understand why you couldn't be like the other moms. What I really wanted was for people to think I was as cool and fun as they thought you were. I didn't want you to be different. I wanted me to be different. But I wouldn't have told you that at that moment for all the gold in Fort Knox. I heard the uncertainty in your voice and knew that you needed validation more than you needed me to tell you how I really felt. How many times had you done that for me? So, please forgive me for that lie. I promise never to lie to you again.

There are so many things that I wish you were here for. Most of all, I just wish you were here to be my mom.

I hope you don't mind if I share this letter with some friends. See, this blog isn't just about me. You taught me to always try to help others and that's what I'm trying to do. I don't have anything important to say, but maybe it could help someone. I think that's what I admire about you most. You always rooted for the underdog, always took in the strays, always brought home the misfit Christmas tree, and always, always, always fought for the people who couldn't fight for themselves. I'm not as strong as you, but I do my best.

I love you, Mom. Wish you were here.

Love,

Sarah Beth