Dear, dear Daughters,

And so , here we are--finally communicating, if only by bits and pieces. Not a bad start, I would say. Although I talk with each of you sporadically, I think I will be enjoying the common thread.

Hannah, I love how you relate to your roommates and how you see the world with a broad lens. College can do that, seeing as how it incorporates a myriad of peoples and viewpoints. Not withstanding, I would still like to go to the local Farmers' Market with you, tho I did so enjoy the peaceful atmosphere at Morro Bay.

Kara, you have now officially joined the "self-supporting ones," complete with bills and roommates. Good for you, tho I don't envy all the changes. 'Course I don't like change--except for furniture and kitchen drawers. Lucas hates it when I move the can opener.

As for the elder son, we watched him play football last Thursday. The week before, he quarterbacked the entire game without a break, running back and forth to the coach after every play to get instructions. Tired boy. But this week, he played center on defense. He made ten tackles, including one where he broke through the line and tackled the quarterback right after the throw, making the QB wobble his pitch. Luke was tired, but felt better after the game than the week before, when he was so exhausted he was angry. Dad and I also attended the Varsity Football Game at AVHS on Friday--the first on their new field--and the team had their first--yes, first--win. Dad said Luke kept looking up at us from his seat and was surprised at how intent we were on the game. Ah, so little do the children know. We are interested in what interests the child.....

Parallel with day-to-day activities are the harder things of life, naturally. My mind hums--no, grinds--right now with the effort of sorting out pounding thoughts. I don't get why I learn important lessons about myself and mothering after you are grown. And, honestly, I do not have God figured out, no matter what you may think.

Bread-and-butter news includes:

• Daniel and Marybeth will be here for Thanksgiving;
• Kara will not be here for Thanksgiving;
• Grandma Jones will be arriving December 19th to spend Christmas with us;
• Grandma Jones will go to Uncle Mike's December 26th;
• Dad has made a call to Noriega's to consider a get-together either 12/26 or at Logan's Candy Canes sometime before Christmas;
• we love you, and are grateful you have two parents. When you are upset with one, you can still talk to the other!
  

Love,

Momma

Momma's Invitation

My dear children,

Oh, this is new to me, this using technology to reflect who I am. But this is not new: my love for our children. Even now, it is tempting to fall into the norm of saying "my children", but I determined when I married to always acknowledge that our sons and daughters would never be solely mine, that your dad shared just as much in your creation as I did and so I would forever keep in mind I did not possess you.

Now. What is the purpose of this blog? Only to keep up with you--hopefully. I know that you older ones (the only ones to whom this blog is available) have flown the nest, embarking on lives of your own. I must admit I look on your soaring with sincere adventure for you and profound grief for me. It is not that I don't wish for you all good things; it is that our relationship, the one I share individually with each one of you, forever changed when you fluttered your wings. True, that is good in some ways. But, as your mother, I so very much enjoyed the days when your chubby faces looked into mine--the one with early morning sleepiness, no make-up, framed by mussed-up locks--and you smiled with not a care in the world what I looked like. You trusted me entirely and, oh, did we share good times. When the work was hard--and it was hard--I would look at you and know all my efforts were worthwhile because you were worthwhile. Looking at you, I stared eternity in the face, seeing my own lineage in flesh and blood, pondering with revelational awe that through you, Dad and I would live on.

Now, you go and fly off. Doggone you. I had so hoped that as you grew, our relationship would flux with the times. Sometimes it did. Often it didn't. And now, regretfully for me, I must wait for you. You, in growing up, have rightfully formed relationships outside the family circle, outside of even my knowledge. I am glad for you. (I have friends, too, you know.)

But I wait for you. Always, I wait for you. This time in history is tornadoed with an incredible pace and cultural expectations I do not like. I don't like them at all. Even at my age, with all my experience in living, I simply cannot keep up. And, really, I don't want to.

Instead, I want to know you, and I want to know you well. Relationships take time and effort--a regular meeting in some way. Your lives are scheduled somewhat, with your own pursuits. So is mine. But I miss you desperately. And I miss seeing who you have become.

So, I invite you to be with me via this blog. Truly, I do extend an invitation. I know you may not RSVP. But I do have "thoughts I think toward you" and writing may come easier than talking.

I love you.

Momma