Friday, July 12, 2019

Lonely but not Alone


Earthly-speaking, I'm a 60-year-old orphan.

Some days I want nothing more than to call my mom. Or my dad. Or my big sister. Those are the people I could always lean on when life got too hard. But they're not here anymore.

It gets lonely.

As Blanche Devereaux said on The Golden Girls, as she stood over her parents' graves after her father's funeral, "I'm nobody's little girl anymore."

The Golden Girls was at times poignant, heartwarming, hilarious, and quote-worthy. Another favorite quote of mine is from Rose Nylund, after Blanche's teenage grandson indicated he would like to live with the them: "It wouldn't be fair to be this old and have to raise children!" In another episode, upon receiving a marriage proposal from a rich boyfriend with young children, Blanche was hesitant to take on the responsibility, saying, "They're practically babies! Babies need a mama! Goodness, I've already raised my family. I don't have the energy to go through that again!" These quotes regarding tired, old people raising children especially resonate with me.

I'm tired. And old. And still raising children.

But this isn't really about The Golden Girls or raising children through our golden years. Today I'm talking about feeling alone.

Raising our grandchildren has, in many ways, isolated my husband and me from other couples our age...and from each other. Those with empty nests are doing things we only dream about. Also, living so far from our siblings and extended family, and not having the freedom to travel often to visit, has made us feel like strangers when we do.  Sometimes those whose lives are so far away from ours--both literally and figuratively--seem to have forgotten about us or simply don't feel connected anymore. And when you get old and tired, but responsibilities are calling, your relationship with each other often becomes more about dealing with the day-to-day struggles than maintaining your romance. There simply isn't enough time or energy left at the end of the day.

As a parent, by necessity, your life can become consumed by the needs of your children. When that continues on for decades, it seems sometimes that your only purpose is to fulfill those needs to the detriment of other aspects of your life. And those children don't realize you are a human being, not a robot without emotions or needs of your own. Some days it would be nice to have another human being to talk with, sometimes even--gasp!--about your own hopes, dreams, and feelings.

I can't remember the last time someone other than my husband asked me about me. At least not in a meaningful, non-obligatory way. Occasionally I'll get the perfunctory question, "How are you?", but that doesn't really open up a dialogue. I personally can't bring myself to use that as a jumping-off point to talk about my struggles or even my few joyful moments.

But speaking of joyful moments, most of mine come at the end of a long, stressful day, when I reach out to the One who knows me and cares--my Heavenly Father. I can open up to Him about anything, and I do. I'm pretty sure that is the one and only thing that has kept me going this long. So even though it might sound like you've stepped into a pity-party, I'm really just trying to share that no matter how lonely and forgotten we may feel, there's Someone who will always be there and will always care. God loves you and He loves me, no matter how isolated we sometimes feel.

When nobody seems to see you or hear what you wish you could say, God will always be there to wrap you in His loving embrace and listen to what you can't put into words.

--------------------------------------------------
Romans 8:38-39

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.





Thursday, April 25, 2019

Recharge and Repeat

Just as I was anticipating enjoying the final chapter of my life when my younger grand/daughter graduates high school next year, my husband decided to add to my "to do" list and hire me as his work assistant. I have no problem helping my husband at his job, especially since it appears to be the only way I'll ever see him. But I'm tired.

Anyway, as I was working on my laptop computer, I noticed the battery was almost depleted. I had been so busy trying to learn how to do my new job that I hadn't remembered to plug it in to recharge.

Today, that's how I feel.

I don't have the hardest life out there. I also know I've been blessed in so many ways. However, that seems to add a layer of guilt to my feelings of being overwhelmed by life. How can I, Suburban Housewife and Mom, be anything but joyful???!!! My husband works hard to support us, our children are staying out of trouble (I think), we have a comfortable place to rest our heads at night, and as far as I know, nobody is looking to do us harm.

But I'm tired.

Did I say that already? Sometimes I simply want to repeat it. Or shout if from the clocktower.

I'm entering year 42 of child raising. I love my children with all my heart. But I don't know how much more energy I can expend disciplining, reminding, cajoling, comforting, cooking, cleaning, encouraging, listening, disciplining, reminding, cajoling, cooking, cleaning...

It never ends. And I'm still tired.

Over the past few months I've also lost two people I love very much, and even though I try to move forward in life as best I can, sometimes the memory washes over me like a giant wave out of nowhere and takes my breath away.

Sometimes I just need someone to listen. Someone who cares. Someone who will laugh with me about the absurdity of 42 consecutive years of trying to get little people to do what they need to do in order to become fully functioning big people.

I need a recharge. Or at this point, maybe it isn't just the battery; maybe I've served all I can and it's time for a new, more powerful machine to take over.

The household manual is in the kitchen drawer. Unless someone removed it and "forgot" to return it to its rightful place. If so, Shiny New Machine, you're on your own.