Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

Cinderella Mom

If you think Jesus would have come into your home that day and not issued a strong rebuke to the head of household, you are mistaken. These words of condemnation have been haunting me for days now. They aren’t all that different than the soundtrack I play in my head on an almost-daily basis. It’s…

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This is 40

I am nesting. On Saturday I emptied the refrigerator. Last summer’s homemade pickles in their jars. The bread ends that seem to multiply on every shelf. The eggs. The milk. The fruit and veggies. All of it sat on the floor or the counter as I carefully removed the shelves and wiped them down with…

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Beauty on the Backroads {or Why I Changed the Name of my Blog}

I’ve heard that life is like a highway. And it definitely seems like that sometimes. The pace of life swirls around me at dizzying speeds. We’re all so busy. In such a hurry. Always somewhere to be, something else to do. I’m a get-to-the-point, get-there-quick kind of girl. I don’t like to waste time on…

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A few good friends

It’s a rare friend who can call you “liar” to your face and live to tell about it.

Or raid your fridge and pantry like they’re his own. (My husband and I call them “refrigerator friends.”)

It’s a rare friend who can make you smile from 1,000 miles away with a few words on a birthday card.

Or be facedown on the floor in prayer for you in your darkest hour.

I’m blessed to have a few good friends.

© Verity Johnson | Dreamstime.com

The last week has reminded me of that.

Motherhood is a lonely gig sometimes, complicated for me by the fact that we live 700 miles from where I grew up, and I have a hard time making friends.

Not that I’m unfriendly. At least I don’t think I am. I’m just shy sometimes, and unwilling to be vulnerable with new people. And afraid of rejection. I want to invite people to my house to get to know them better but if they tell me “no,” then I’m afraid to ask again.

And I’m not good at maintaining a gazillion friendships.  I like people, and I’m of the mind that if I’ve ever known you at some point in my life, I consider you a friend of sorts. Or at least someone who I wouldn’t hang up on if you called me.

Do you ever wish we had another word for “friend”? Facebook has kind of ruined the idea with every acquaintance, classmate, co-worker and family member you have being called “friend.”

I want a word that describes those people I described above:

  • people who aren’t afraid to find out how you really are
  • who share their lives with you
  • who know you in ways a spouse can’t because they lived the drama of middle school, high school and beyond with you

Those kinds of friends deserve a better word. And I’m at a loss to find it.

Any suggestions?

For another take on friendship, check out my friend Courtney’s blog on the subject.

And tell me about the good friends in your life.

Henceforth, my birthday will NOT occur during finals week

And while we’re at it, I’d like to move Mother’s Day to August.

That said, I was intending to go in an entirely different direction with this post. It was all about me: how I hate that my birthday is often overlooked in our house because of finals, papers or, in the past, Army trainings/deployments; how the same is true of Mother’s Day because it also falls during finals week; how poor, poor me was in tears on my birthday and feeling unloved on Mother’s Day.

Then a delivery man brought this to my door:

(The instructions said to consume immediately. Who was I to argue? Especially concerning those chocolate-dipped apple slices.)

And I received a belated birthday card that made me smile.

And even though I’ve had a rough week, and I really did cry on my birthday and nearly told my husband off on Mother’s Day, my heart wasn’t in the post that I was writing.

It was ungrateful, selfish and truly pitiful. Even I wouldn’t have read it.

So let me tell you what I’ve learned this week:

  • Birthdays are just another day. I used to get upset at my dad for feeling this way about his birthday, but I sort of get it now. Yes, May 4 is the anniversary of the day I was born, and no, we can’t always celebrate it on that day. Does that mean my birthday has no meaning? That we can’t celebrate it at all? Nope. May 18 is the rescheduled day of my birth this year. My husband will prepare my pre-selected menu of meals that day, and I hope, have had time to buy me something nice. (Phil, if you’re reading this, you’ve gotten the hint, now get back to writing those papers!)
  • The postal service has not outlived its usefulness yet. At least, not in my book. More than 100 people posted a birthday greeting on my wall. (If you were one of them, thank you for that!) I also received a couple of e-mail greetings/cards. For me, though, there’s nothing like getting a card in the mail on your birthday. Some people see that as a waste of money, and if that’s your view, that’s fine. But let me tell you this story: my grandmother paid $18 in postage to ensure that my birthday card arrived ON my birthday. Extravagant? Perhaps. But love makes you do crazy things sometimes. I am resolved to try harder to send cards in the mail for birthdays and other special moments. I will fail, but I will try harder.
  • In the absence of family, friends and church family shine like stars in the night sky. I was overwhelmingly blessed by warm well-wishes for my birthday and Mother’s Day by people I’ve known less than 3 years but who feel like they’ve been a part of our lives forever.

When I look back on the pain I caused myself this week with too-high expectations and roller-coaster emotions, I wish I could take back the time I lost. But I can only move on, look ahead and hope that this time next year, no matter what does or does not happen in May, that I’m praising God for another year of life and motherhood.