Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Not my words

When I started with this blog, I promised myself I wouldn't write if I didn't have anything to say.

What I didn't expect was the rush of words that flooded my fingers the second I clicked "New Post."  Or the ideas swimming through my head day and night for the next one.

I was nervous to let these ideas flow.  I've made it my life's mantra to set expectations low.  It's how I protect myself from failure.

But the words were true and sincere and it felt like a lie to save them up for later, when I wasn't really feeling them.  So I kept hitting publish, even though the little voice was saying, you'll never keep up with this.

Two times I got stuck.  Sat down at my computer, coffee in hand, blank screen before me... and nothing came.  Or something came, but it wasn't real and it didn't feel right, and in the end, I just couldn't put it out there.

Both times it wasn't blankness that was blocking me, though.  It was words.  Words that had to be said before more words could come.  The first time this came out.

But the second time, it was more confusing than that.  Because I didn't have any ideas.  Nothing.  Just this feeling that I was on the brink of something deep, and meaningful.  So I sat down and I tried to write, but it was so bad.  So, so bad.

And that's when I realized, it wasn't my words that were blocking me.  It was someone else's.  Someone else's voice.  Someone else's message that needed to be heard.

You see, last Thursday, I received a message that made me both smile and tear up at the same time.

It was from Suzanne, a teacher at the school who works closely with my husband.

It's impossible not to love Suzanne, from the moment you meet her.

In fact, I still remember the first time I met Suzanne.  She looked from Joel to me and me to Joel and said to him, "How'd you get that one?"

Of course I loved her!

She's her own person, funny and unique.  She lights up a room, and not in the cliched way.  But in the real way that makes everything feel a bit warmer when she's around.

So I lit up when I saw her message.  And I loved her even more as I read on.  When I finished I felt frozen.  Like I had just heard something very powerful, and needed to give it a chance to sink in.

Then I left my bed and kissed every one of my sleeping children.

But after that her words wouldn't leave me, and I found myself thinking about them often.  And when nothing else would come and I knew it was her, I had to ask.  Please, Suzanne, can I share your message?

She was so brave, and said yes, and it made my heart so happy.

So here it is.  My first guest blogger.

Take your time.  Read it slowly.  There's gold in there.
Oh my goodness Kim, you make me smile. I love your blog. I rush to read it the minute I see a new one up. I think when I read what you write here, I could write about the other end...when they have gone...when all you are left with for so many nights is just your 'thoughts' and dinner is a half bowl of ice-cream and a beer and there's not a crumb, or pile of dishes in sight but how incredibly sad that is. I have just started to read again, it's taken twenty years for me to finally read truly have that time and perhaps even the energy to settle down into a book and so often I find myself turning my book over and getting lost in the memories that reading prompts of earlier lifetimes and that always involves my kids. You help me remember too when I read your blogs. 
Keep writing my girl, you bring such joy but you also prompt your 'fans' to think deeply and sometimes sadly and sometimes happily about their journeys too. As I sit here alone for the first time, in my house, after twenty five years of parenting, with my baby having finally moved out, the silence, the emptiness, the cleanliness, the order, the empty sink, my supply of 'treats' that haven't been raided, my wardrobe that hasn't been ransacked, my purse that hasn't been emptied of all my change somehow tells me that all is not right with the world, and that it is through chaos and craziness that we really live.
 I wrote her back to tell her I would never look at my sink full of dirty dishes the same again.

Thank you, Suzanne.

Thank you.

Beautiful Suzanne and Joel on the Danube!


  1. Like they say, hard to see the forest for the trees - it's hard to see the eventual empty house when the reality of now is such chaos.

    1. It is so hard. Even when I want to think about it all the time, and keep that perspective constantly, it's impossible. But sometimes just a momentary glimpse is enough. Even if it means just one extra kiss or smile or moment of laughter... it can be really powerful to look beyond the trees, if only for a moment.