finding myself

There were so many things I wanted to be when I grew up. But, for as long as I can remember, I had always known I wanted to be a mama. In high school, one of my favorite games was playing “MASH” with my friends and listing down the names of my future 8 children. Well, the “MASH” game predictions never came to fruition, but I did end up having four kids with better suiting names than Jem cartoon characters.

Before I had my first baby, I had received my bachelor’s degree in Early Childhood Education and worked as a preschool teacher. I loved my job. I willingly worked from 7am-9pm. I loved the lesson planning, and I adored the children. It was pretty fantastic. I also worked at a juvenile detention center, and that was fun, too. However, once my baby was born, I had no second thoughts and happily quit my job.

Fast forward to the present time, and I can’t help but examine the past 11 years of parenthood. I wonder, did I allow motherhood to consume me and extinguish all other aspects of my identity? Or did I push against conformation, resisting change still clinging to my former self?

I look back over the years and as cliché as this may sound; there is a season for everything. There were times when I was excellent at balancing my personal hobbies with trips to the park with my babies. I am very much a planner, and I’d block off time when we’d go to the library, or zoo, and then block time off for crafting after the babies went to sleep. Dang, I was good!

And then, I recall the times just after babies were born, and feeling like a human milking cow. No matter that I blocked time off for baking, sewing, writing, or even sleep – my time was not my time.

So, how do you keep a sense of identity in the ever-evolving world of motherhood?

1.     Be flexible. Sometimes it’s great to have routines, and other times, trying to stick to a routine is murder and more stress than it’s worth. When my first child was born, I was a stickler for routines. “It’s nap time! Don’t wake the baby!” “It’s the baby’s mealtime and this is the way we do it, in the order we do it, because that’s the routine.” Nope. A word of caution, this has the real possibility of making you look annoyingly insane and alienating yourself from the rest of the population of the world. For most mama’s, this lesson of flexibility is best learned after the second, third, and fourth kid. “Sorry kid, can’t sleep now, we’ve got to pick up your brother from school.” “Hey kids, we’re going to have cold cereal for dinner because my brain is fried and figuring out what to do with the ingredients in the pantry is beyond my mental capabilities – so, knock yourself out.” Smile, give your shoulders a little shrug, and get on with it.

2.     Find joy in the season you’re in. You will have phases when things are riding out smoothly, when you have everything figured out. You have time to go out with friends, time to join a choir, time to paint, to join athletic teams or go to the gym. And just like any other dream job out there, there are really tough parts…like, realizing all you are is a poop and puke cleaner. When I had my first two babies, the sleepless nights were killer. It got easier with the second, but by the third baby, I had actually learned to enjoy the special times at 3am feeding my newborn. After my first two babies, I knew this phase would only last 6-8 weeks. I allowed myself to sleep in and cuddle the day away. I allowed myself to accept the help that was offered, and find joy in the wonderful friendships that blossomed from all those sweet and kind acts of service. When my kids got sick and puked everywhere, I reminded myself to clean up with a loving heart and that act of kindness showed my children just how much they were loved and cared for. Sometimes your identity will consist of more than cleaning up messes, and sometimes it is made up entirely of cleaning up messes, and that’s ok.  

3.     Take time-outs. Mamas get tired. Mamas get annoyed, and angry. We are human. We can’t do it all, all of the time. I am at the lovely season of sibling squabbles. The constant sound of “He did it!” “She did it!” – it’s like scratches on a chalkboard and my brain goes numb and a chill runs down my spine. I close my eyes, put up my hands in surrender, “Kids, I can’t do this right now, I’ll be in my room with the door shut and locked. Please don’t bug me until I come out.” Then I grab my secret stash of ding-dongs, lie on my bed and read a book. I completely zone out everything going on outside of my room, I’m sure my kids will get me in the case of an emergency, and the 11yr-old know what to do, right? Anyway, I wait to come out until I am calm and collected, and somewhat more refreshed. OK, I can deal with this now. If you have younger children and can’t lock yourself in your room, I find that putting on a movie and cuddling up with them while I take a nap has also done wonders.

Keeping and finding my identity, as a mother of four has been a wild juggling act. Sometimes I can juggle five balls, other times, I can only manage to keep one in my hand. After eleven years of parenting, I’m not the same person I once was. I have new priorities, new interests, and new hobbies. Give me ten more years, and I’m sure I’ll have morphed again. Self-identity is fluid and shape shifting. Although so many things have changed since being a child, I still find myself wanting to be a plethora of things. Seamstress. Artist. Photographer. Writer. Mother. And I realize, I can be all these things at varying degrees throughout my life. I haven’t found the perfect balance. But for myself, personally, I am grateful for the phases of life that motherhood consumed me, my identity. I look back at the milestone pictures and my past blog posts and remember how sweet and hard the climb was – and those are the moments I relish in.  

goodbyes aren't really goodbyes, afterall

the ground was damp with fresh rain. the wet dirt mingled with wet sage and mint washed over me. i breathed it all in, my last prayer run while living on Hopiland. i actually didn't run this time. i walked, making sure i allowed my senses to soak every bit in.

 i remembered the first morning here, almost 2 years ago. i was so excited for this new adventure. and now, this chapter was coming to a close.

i was cleaning and packing when the doorbell rang later that morning. i was the only one home, sam at work, the kids i had left at my parents' house so i could be more productive. i opened the door not sure who to expect. it was makayah's sweet little friend. she asked if makayah could come and play. i told her she wasn't here today, and i was afraid to tell her that she might not be back at all. her face fell, and she nodded her head. i closed the front door. i wasn't expecting to, i thought i'd be tougher this time around, but my throat choked up, and my eyes stung with fresh tears. one day before we were completely moved out, it hit me. we're moving away, and some of these wonderful people we may never see again. things won't be the same and everything will change. i let myself have a good cry. then i lay on the bed thinking about the past two years.

through all the moves we've had in life, and we've had so many, i have learned an important lesson. i've learned that no matter what difficulties or challenges that arise in new places, differences to get used to, new people to meet, new streets to navigate, new foods to try, new weather to acclimate to; the most important thing to do is love it all. live every day like it's a great adventure. make happy memories...because someday i know that i'll move from a place and my heart will ache for everything that place had been to me.

when i moved here, i was quite ignorant of the people and the culture. i had only ever come here during football games or basketball games, a drive through on my way to tuba city. in these past two years we have made life long friends, people who had only first met us but treated us like instant family. you have made us feel so welcome, like we belonged. you have fed us, you have laughed with us, you have invited us to beautiful dances and ceremonies that have opened our eyes to your wonderful culture and way of life. you have embraced us and made us feel so loved. you have sat with us around fires telling stories and roasting marshmallows. you have taught us the spiritual side of running in the wee hours of the morning and in the magical light of sunset. i have been so humbled and am beyond grateful to have witnessed your sweet spirits. my life will forever be better because i lived here, and i know my childrens' lives will be, too.

the past several weeks, we've been getting together with as many friends as we can. saying good-bye. when we do, they shake their heads and say, "it's not good-bye. you'll be back. you always have a place to stay when you come and visit."

the last two days were really tough. sam and i looked around the sad and empty rooms we used to call home. there were only echoes of happy times left. i suppose that's something to be extremely grateful for, and i am. i just didn't think it would be this hard to leave.



good-bye Hopi Home, you've served us well.

pieces of me

in my hand there is a sifter. the pieces of what i've longed to become when i was younger - painter, writer, dancer, singer, gardner (although i'm terrible at it), pianist, weaver - all of it slip through the holes until only mother, teacher, housekeeper, and mediocre cook are left.

i went to school to become a teacher. i thought it was the perfect profession for me until i had children of my own, and then i had no desire to watch or care for anyone's child other than my own. when i locked eyes with my firstborn all of the other parts of me became only a distraction. motherhood was my priority, my focus, and the one thing i was determined to excel at. i had many failures as i navigated through my first years (ahem, and the many years that followed), as well as triumphs sprinkled throughout that kept me going and validated my efforts.

housekeeper and cook are only there by default. i like not living in a rat's nest, i can't help it. and because there's a certain level of cleanliness i need to maintain to survive (happily), most times, i'm the one keeping up the high standards of living. my children could very well live in a pool of peanut butter and jelly or mudpies and be perfectly content. and cook...i'm only mediocre because i burn half of what i make. and that's only because i have to pull myself away from the stove or oven to prevent a toddler from flushing toothbrushes down the toilet, or break up sibling fights over who started what first. 

but, it's been almost 10 years now since i chose motherhood to be my one and only hobby/ambition/priority. the baby is now 2.5, sleeping through the night (most nights, anyway). but it's nothing like the newborn days or post-apocalyptic zombie-like survival. did i eat today? did i take a shower? are those ants on my granola bar crumbed floor? no, it's nothing like that nowadays. true, just two days ago i was up all night with my 4 year old who was taken out with a case of the stomach flu. but, i slept in until 10am the next morning while my almost 10 year old fed the younger kids breakfast and turned the t.v. on for educational pbs cartoon viewing until i finally rose from the dead. my littles have become so independent. i no longer have to brush each of their teeth, wrestle them into clothes, make snacks (they proudly unlock the baby-proofing on the fridge to grab whatever their little hearts desire). most days, i don't even have to clean the house with the exception of loading the dishwasher. after 10 years and 4 babies, my littles aren't so little anymore. 

maybe some piece of me has realized that, because now there's this itch in my brain. despite taking a sleeping pill, my mind refuses to stop shouting. write this, paint that, sing this, weave that. run races, travel, take pretty pictures - it's 2am for crying out loud! go back to sleep! the pieces that had sifted out, want to come back in. i'm not gonna lie, i'm happy for their return. i've been a full-time mama for a really long time now. it's what i chose, what i wanted. i wouldn't change my decision for anything in the world. i'm grateful for all the time i've had and do have with all my babies. but at the same time, my kids are older, and maybe i can devote an hour or two here or there. in fact, i know the time has come that i need to. i just have to find the right balance...and 2am is not it. so, i think tomorrow night my insomnia will call for reinforcements of sleepy time tea...and then i can start thinking about re-sifting a few of my priorities and start to become all those other things i want to be when i grow up. 

a break in the chaos

the other day isaiah asked if i had been blogging. he wanted to know when the 2012-2014 crazy crowfoot blog books would be published. all four of my littles had been cozied up on the couch, giggling, oohing and aahhing, and reading the "quotes of the day" out loud to each other. it had made me smile. so when i asked isaiah why he was so eager for the other editions to be printed out, he simply said, "because i love your stories."

a whirlwind summer is an understatement. i had thought about making a summer bucket list chart. that never happened because in between meeting our newest cousin, taking wagon rides in southern alberta with the grandparents, running a ragnar race with my husband and friends, basketball camps and picnics with friends and family, carnival rides, 

a mini reunion with cousins and aunts/uncles at lake powell, 

and of course, homeschool...

i just have not found the time. 

all of this running to and fro has finally caught up with us, and we are taking a sick day, watching kung fu panda, delivering tylenol for fevers, ice packs for bruised arms, and hoping the puke bucket isn't filled.

it's been a thrilling summer, an exhausting time learning how to travel and parent on my own with sam stuck at work holding down the fort. it's not easy, and i commend all those who do it all. you are amazing. 

just before i ran off to canada, i had a meltdown. the kids weren't listening and i was done with asking. sam came home, saw me in zombie-mode and figured he better have a chat with the perpetrators.

i overheard, whether or not i should have, this:

****

mom asks you to do a simple thing like helping her clean the house and you don't do it, why?

"because we wanted to play."

did you know she sacrificed everything for you? do you think she wanted to slave all day for kids who aren't grateful and don't help her out? she had dreams and she gave them all up for you; the least you can do is what she asks.

"mom had dreams??"

(shocking, i know)

****

about a minute later, i hear tiptoes down the hallway. then a whisper, "mom, what were your dreams?"

i was feeling pretty sensitive and emotional, and blubbered out, "i don't even know anymore."

i've been thinking about this throughout the entire summer. what do i like to do? what do i want to do? i like to write, and i love writing there blog posts - even if no one ever reads them, as long as my children enjoy them, and laugh out loud when they get to a funny part, or oogle about a picture saying, "ah! i remember this!" that's good enough for me.

there are several things i've narrowed my "dreams" down to. i've wanted to make these dreams a reality, but the reality of life is an amazing distraction.

am i sad that my crazy crowfoot crew and their needs take precedence over my craft?

do i resent having to homeschool and plan and prepare for lessons instead of writing and painting?

not at all. in fact, my number one dream was to be a kick-ass mom, otherwise, i don't think i'd spend as much time as i do on it. ha. the thing is, i wanted to make those sacrifices to bring babies into my world, even if that meant someday i'd be scrubbing dried snot off my walls. i think all of these life lessons and learning how to be a more giving and loving mother will most definitely help me on my way to fulfilling those other dreams.

at least, i hope so. 

i think about the day when i won't be homeschooling any longer. it kinda makes me sad, and i'm not ready to give this time up with my kids just yet. 

i've made some adjustments to our homeschooling schedule for this upcoming school year to accommodate my "dreams." because in between all the owies, the tears, the tantrums, the mundane tasks of housework or car maintenance or doctors appointments, i need something of my own to recharge and fill my bucket. and if that something just happens to be my own set of paints that i am not willing to share with my babies - then tough luck, babies. although, the giggles, the cuddles, the kisses, the pure enjoyment of living life and having adventures with my husband and my babies sure does more recharging than those watercolors ever could. ;)

not to mention…

this fabulous mobile library that we finally caught up to!

we have library cards, and it feels like christmas.

so, for those of you who have asked and are curious about what our day looks like, here ya go:

we get out of bed when we want to - usually around 7-7:30am. i workout at 7 to get all those feel-good endorphins i so badly need.

sam leaves for work at 8am, while the rest of us have breakfast.

after getting dressed for the day, we engage in our morning yoga around 9:30, followed by scripture study.

at about 10 or 10:30, we begin our language arts activities.

here, we are working with the grammar boxes.

they really love manipulating things, so these hands on cards are a great resource.

we have math around 11 or 11:30. i don't have a picture handy, but we've been using golden bead rods which are the best ever.

noon, we have lunch.

after lunch, we have our science lesson, which is our plant unit right now. in a couple weeks we'll be moving on to space exploration…because that's what they want to learn about.

around 2, we have chores, and as soon as they are done, it's free time for the rest of the day. 

our day is dotted with walks as well, whenever the kids start feeling restless, it's a good time to step outside.

we only have school 4 days a week…wednesday being our free day. the times we aren't out grocery shopping (which is an all day affair), we have artist or author spotlights. and basically, just art day.

so far, my plan is to homeschool year round, 6 weeks at a time, with 2 week breaks, and one big chunk of winter break (december/january). during this huge break we'll be focusing solely on music - piano, guitar, whatever they want. 

sam was skeptic about my "hippy school," so i bought several workbooks and a homeschool planner to appease his fears of having unintelligent, weird homeschool kids. 

anyway, i know i've been out of the loop for quite some time. i had to be. so, my dear friends and family, in the midst of dirty diapers, long road trips, and temporary single parenting, i never meant to neglect you. and a huge thank you to everyone who has hosted us this summer, and helped me to feel not so insane.

i guess its time to order that 2011 blog book and catch up on the rest of the years…since it is a sick day.

***

today i am grateful for:

*no puking kids thus far.

*tyelenol for the babies (and the ZzzQuil i took last night, man i needed that sleep)

*movie days and toast

the end.

a leap of faith

when i was 9 or 10, my mother had put my brother and i in swim lessons. towards the end of the season, the instructors lined every one up near the high dive board. i never even made it up one step, i knew i couldn't do it, and more so, didn't want to do it. no amount of coaxing could get me to face the horror of jumping from 20 feet. no way, no how. i quietly slipped out of line, sat on the sidelines with the other scaredy cats, and that was that.

for the past two months, well, actually for the past year, sam and i had been discussing the possibility of homeschool. we made it out of rural wisconsin without it ever coming to fruition. and when we moved here, we knew we definitely wanted our kids to be immersed in the community, making friends and learning about the culture and people here. they loved it, we loved it. it was a great school, and they quickly made new friends. of course, being the new kids, it was also a challenge to really fit in at times.

i loved it whenever we went to dances on the mesas, or out to community gatherings, and my kids would say, "oh hey isaac." or "hey sammie!" it was so great going places and knowing people.

but always, in the back of my head and the soft spots of my heart, there was this nagging feeling that i needed to have my kids with me. i began to research homeschooling again. i read blog after blog, book after book, trying to figure out if this is what i wanted to do. the more i read, the more excited i became. i figured, this is what i went to school for, why not put it to good use?

sam and i discussed a trial run during the summer. i began to make the necessary preparations.

but, circumstances changed, and suddenly i was faced with the question from sam, "are you ready to homeschool next week? this is the last week of school for the kids."

what the?! everything was rushed, and i had to get my junk together, quick.

i began to panic. is this really the right thing to do? but, i knew it was.

maybe it was because it was happening faster than i imagined it would, but the doubt crept in. uncertainty lay waiting beside my pillow to greet me as soon as i woke from restless sleep.

i prayed, i had been praying about this for several weeks.

maybe i was was just scared of everything changing so drastically.

the kids' last day was on friday. we made going away gifts for the teachers and apple cinnamon muffins for the class. i dropped the kids off myself and before i could get out the good-byes, i was bawling my eyes out. i hugged them, teary-eyed. they were like family, and i was going to miss our daily relationships. luckily, (and i kept telling this to myself) we were still going to be part of interscholastic/sports activities. i dropped the kids off for their last day and drove back home with the babies. there's something that i've learned throughout moving processes, and that is it is important to allow myself to grieve the change. i let the tears fall until my eyes were good and puffy.

inside my head was a raging argument.

what did i just do?

did i do the right thing?

is it too late to change my mind?

oh dear, what have i done?

it was a tough day for me.

the kids came home with their work from the past 5 months.

they said school was happy and a little sad...sad because they had to say goodbye to their friends.

i reminded them that we'd see them at events and around the community gatherings.

they cheered up a bit.

we had movie night and sam's boss dropped off root beer floats for us.

we cheered up a bit more.

we had a fun weekend with uncle jake (more on that later), and then it was monday.

the first day of homeschool.

the morning was easy. no rushing for the bus, no tears concerning hair or clothes. we took the time we needed to get ready for the day, to eat, to wake up completely.

and then we began our day with a little dr. seuss.

for the past two days, homeschool was all i hoped it would be.

i wanted this. i wanted the 8 hours/day back. i needed to be with all of my babies, and i know that sounds crazy. i'm just one of those crazy moms who needs to be with their children all the time.

it hasn't been a complete breeze. i've been battling a sore throat. during our project work today, i began dozing off during the conversation about our predictions concerning these seeds we just "planted."

my throat hurts, my nose is stuffy, and all i wanted to do was sleep.

but, these wonderful kids of mine have kept me going, not matter the ickiness i feel from having to deal with this cold. i force myself to break out of my slothful ways, to be involved - truly involved.

i force myself to take them out in the sunshine, to laugh, and play, and run.

and at the end of the day, when i'm sipping on my licorice root tea to soothe my aching throat, i am fulfilled. maybe this homeschooling thing was an extremely selfish move on my part. no amount of coaxing could have broken my determination to go through homeschooling. and yet, it was a terrifying leap of faith, hoping someone would catch me, hoping i was doing the right thing.

well, i made the jump, and now i know it was the right thing. yes, there are going to be challenging days ahead. but there is this feeling i just can't shake. i needed to be with my babies, all of them. i needed that extra 40 hours/week to be mine. i remember being so sad when i'd send them off to school, knowing that they were growing apart from me, knowing that they had this completely separate world in which i was no longer part of. it made my heart ache and long for them to be home with me. sometimes, i'd go to the pick up spot early and park right outside of the music window on tuesdays. i'd watch my son dance and laugh with his friends as he played musical games. i'd smile a happy and sad smile, all at the same time. 

my children aren't going to be this little for long. and already, they have grown way too fast. if i didn't somehow get back this extra time to be with them, to teach them, to laugh with them, to play with them, to explore with them, i know i'd always regret it. this time with them is something i'll never get back. 

resolutions and reminders for 2014

i love buying new journals and new books. i love the crisp pages, the new book smell. i love the blank pages of journals excitedly awaiting first words and new memories.

i love the new year because that's how i feel about all the days yet to be written and filled with new adventures and events soon to be reminisced.

people ask me what my new year's resolutions are. my resolution from last year was to love and laugh more with my family, that's it, that was the only one. and as i looked back at all the photos taken, i think i did a pretty fair job. there were many changes this past year and many opportunities for me to exercise love and patience, many opportunities for me to find the humor in challenging situations. there were times i was excellent at being a loving mother and wife. and there were times i cringe at and think what a crappy job i did. but, that's to be expected. the point is, during the really challenging times, like when my toddler broke the child-proof door locks and escaped the house while i rushed upstairs to put the baby down for his nap, and i found the sliding door wide open, and the toddler on the patio with the police man. yeah, times like those, i thought about the goal i had made at the beginning of the year, and instead of beating myself up about mishaps, i decided to laugh and share these misfortunes with others so they could have a good laugh as well. 

so, in the spirit of this crisp, fresh, blank-paged new year ahead of myself, i have a goal to make...a new year's resolution, if you will.

i simply want to be a better person. 

however, all goal-oriented people know that you can't just make a generalized statement like that and hope you get it done. it's way too vague.

so, this is how i'd like to accomplish my far-fetched resolution of perfectionism.

1.

my luxurious days of being a stay at home mother include things like wiping up the same damn puddle of soggy oatmeal day after day. off the floor, off the walls, off clothes and cute faces. i've had to train my brain to shut off when kids start wailing for no reason at all so i don't have a mental breakdown.

i wash the dishes only for them to be dirtied at every meal. seriously, do you people have to eat all day long?!

i'm a multi-tasking ball of mess still stuck in pajama pants by noon, because other little people's needs are more important than my silly need to look presentable when the propane guy comes to fill our tank.

even on the bad days when kids stub their toes, or the puppy has an accident, or i burn dinner, there is always something good hiding inside every day; and i want to make sure i see it.

2.

i read something on never yelling. i'm really glad for people who don't yell or don't have to.

and after reading these quotes, i think i'm fully capable of yelling out of love (or rather concern). i'm not going to resolve that i'm going to stop yelling completely, but i do want to stop yelling out of anger. it's not realistic to stop yelling completely as i live with my hard-of-hearing children, but it will be done with love and concern:

"don't eat the dog food!" 

"get out of the street!"

"stop choking your brother!"

see? love and concern.

but seriously,

hug and kiss my family like there's no tomorrow.

3.

this past year, i've found myself allowing myself to be distracted by social media. who said what, who did what, what, what, what...

thank God there wasn't all this social media crap when i was growing up. i have real memories with my brother, so many of them, and i'm grateful i was present in his life and he was present in mine before he died. this thought of looming death is always in the back of my mind - not in a morbid, depressing way - but more like, i have to make the most of this day, because who knows how many more there are?

and let's be honest, the worst thing i could do is raise a bunch of zombies and succumb to the sickness myself.

i want to be present in my family's lives. i want my children to remember how i played tea party, or bounced on the trampoline with them. i want my husband to remember my embrace and all the not-so-funny things i've said that he thought were crack-ups. i want to take advantage of the time i have to have real conversations with my parents and grandparents before they are gone, so i have something to smile about after.

plus...

because babies don't stay babies forever.

(read: stop pinning things on pinterest and just do the damn activity already!)

i can't write about my children's lives if i'm not part of it.

4.

i want to be kinder to myself. i want to be a good and healthy example of self-love and self-contentment. i want my children (especially my girls) to hear me speak kindly about myself, to speak kindly about others. i'd hate for my children to see me compare myself to everyone else and never be satisfied and in love with who they are.

and i think feeling good about oneself is contagious. when i feel good about myself, i'm more inclined to help others sparkle, too.

5.

i will keep buying kale and asparagus and serving it to my family - even the reluctant, picky ones... 

i will keep fighting and making up with my husband...

i will spend money and time and gas to get to the ones i love just to spend a moment...

i will make eye contact with the guy holding the cardboard sign, and give what i can...

because i give a damn.

6.

there were so many things i wanted to be when i grew up. i'm still checking things off my list, and now i just need to get off my duff and do it.

and if that means buying cold cereal, chicken nuggets, and paper plates in bulk, then so be it.

7.

on my knees every morning and night.

8.

basically.

9.

because next year, when i look back, i want to see that we laughed the whole way through.

10.

i wrote these things down because i want to remember what i'm working towards. it's so easy to be distracted by fleeting trends and really bad examples of self-absorbed people on reality shows. so, i really want to have some kind of focus during my journey this year. i want to be a better person. i'm not perfect, and i know i've made some crappy mistakes, but i also know i'm capable of changing and being so much more than i am now...and that's what matters.

the season of giving.

it was december. i was 9 years old. we had just left rio rest mall with my parents' arms loaded with bags. my brother and i looked at each other with christmas excitement.

they filled the trunk, and got into their seats. my dad called back to us, "don't look in the trunk!"

i couldn't help it, i peeked over the seat. through the plastic, i could make out a barbie shaped box with the words "jem" written in bright yellow. i almost whooped out loud.

yes, yes, yes! that is what i wanted for christmas!

the sunday before christmas, my family traveled to my dad's father's home in cottonwood - the middle of nowhere. his father had remarried a younger woman, so they had children just a little older than my brother and myself. they lived in a one bedroom shack, with a dirt floor, no running water or electricity. they had two beds the family shared. we sat on one of the beds as my dad pulled something out of a sack he had carried in with him.

there was a pile of gifts out, for his three younger siblings.

they were thrilled, their eyes wide with disbelief, and i could tell that they weren't really expecting anything for christmas. this pile of wrapped gifts was truly a christmas miracle.

they eagerly tore off the wrapping paper, jumped for joy at their new fortunes, and threw their arms around my dad - their brother.

among those gifts, was a pink barbie-shaped box with the words, "jem" on it. my heart fell. in all honesty, i was disappointed. i had wanted that doll. i smiled, happy for them, and tried to push the pity i felt for myself, back where it couldn't be seen.

i didn't get a doll that year. i did get other gifts that i was just as excited and thankful for, but something else lingered for years after.

year after year, i watched my father give out gifts of food or toys to his family, to my mom's family each holiday season. they called him santa claus. 

that ninth year of my life, i learned an important lesson about the spirit of christmas.

***

many years later, i was married, and had a young son. my husband was in school and had a part-time job. i was a full-time mother and a part-time dealer of pampered chef items.

money was tight, and it was christmas time.

i had just paid a pile of bills when sam came through the door and told me he had rear-ended someone. 

perfect, just what i needed.

i had forgotten to be thankful that he was okay, that nothing serious had happened to anyone involved. instead, i was furious. more money out the window.

i slammed the bedroom door and started to cry.

just then the doorbell rang.

"monika, come here!"

i wiped my angry face.

on our front porch was a basket filled with sugar cookie dough, cookie cutters, frosting, sprinkles, everything needed to make christmas cookies - and everything i couldn't afford to buy.

my throat clenched and i covered my face with my hands because i couldn't stop the tears from falling, again. sam hugged me, and we both hugged our son. 

my heart softened and i remembered what was really important to me.

i often think about this great gesture of kindness. they will never know how much it meant to me. their love and generosity eased my troubled heart, their kindness was contagious and it changed the ending of our very bad day. i've always wanted to repay that gesture, and the only way i could was to do the same for someone else.

***

two weeks ago, my cousin had posted that three families lost their homes in fires. three weeks from christmas, in the dead of winter, they were living in an unfinished building without any insulation. i gathered the kids and told them about the families and what had happened.

the kids quickly gathered their blankets, clothes, and toys to donate to these families. 

my heart must be mush, because their willingness to give everything they had, made me want to cry all over again.

the sunday before christmas, we stuffed our car with 6 rubbermaid boxes, and bags of food, and drove to my cousin's house.

we're new to the area, so we took a road we had never been on before.

it was a dirt road, and we prayed and prayed that our minivan would make it through.

luckily, it did (as we went 25 mph). we were even met by some friends.

it was a gorgeous drive, and we all really enjoyed the time spent together as a family.

i had never been to this area of the reservation.

we made it to my cousin's house, and dropped off the boxes and bags. mimzy did cry when she saw her toys taken away, but other than that, the rest of our hearts were happy.

i can never repay the kindness those secret santas showed me so many christmases ago, but i was grateful that i was able to help someone else in need and to lift another's burden just as mine was lifted.

the end.